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Larra kept her face impassive as she was hoisted
from the cell. By her reckoning
she had been in the cell for at least three days if the number of times she
had been fed was anything to go on.
She had spent part of the time exploring the tiny room in which she
had been confined. It was pretty
much escape-proof, consisting of a twenty foot shaft with a grill
overhead. She had been lowered
into it shortly after arriving at the
castle.
She still wore the manacles that had been
fastened to her wrists before she had been lowered into the
cell. Completely nude and deprived
even of eating utensils she had no way to pick the locks and remove
them. Just a short time ago a
chain with a hook on it had been lowered into the cell and orders had been
shouted down to her to fix the hook into the chain connecting her
wrists. Without much choice in
the matter she had complied. She
certainly couldn’t escape while she was in the underground
cell. This might be her chance
to escape provided her captors were
careless.
It had taken her only a short while to determine
that she was very unlikely to escape without outside
help. The remainder of the time
she had spent recovering from the beating she had received when she was taken
prisoner and trying to keep in shape by
exercising. She had to go slowly;
her body was covered with bruises and from the pain in her side, she suspected
that the SS thug who had kicked her had cracked a couple of
ribs. When she was not exercising,
she spent most of the time huddled in the two blankets that had been in the
cell. The cell was without a
source of heat and the temperature never went above
freezing.
Strangely, the food that was lowered from
above was of reasonably good quality, even though it was usually cold by
the time it reached her. She
ate as much as she could, knowing that it was important to keep up her strength,
but wondering why she was being so well treated by her brutal
captors. She now suspected that
she was going to find out.
Waiting outside the hatch were four guards
and a man in white trousers and coat.
The hoist did not stop but continued to lift her as she cleared the
hatch. As her nude body swung
a foot above the floor the white-coated man stepped
forward.
“
Larra regarded the man
impassively. He was tall and
thin, with wavy brown hair and clear blue
eyes. She answered in a steady
voice. “I am afraid you
have the better of me.” The
man clearly knew who she was. There
seemed no point in attempting to hide her
identity.
“I suspect you were too involved with
my superior to notice me,” the man
replied. “I am Doktor Wilhelm
Keitel, assistant to Gerhard von Stumpel.”
“I see you have maintained the same high
standards in seeking employment,” Larra said
contemptuously.
“And I see you are the same arrogant
half-breed bitch you were the last time we met,” Keitel
answered. “This time, however,
you will not escape. You will
make a most interesting subject for my studies.”
Larra did not waste her breath bantering with
the Nazi doctor. She was already
beginning to feel the strain of hanging from her wrists and knew that any
man who had worked with the depraved Gerhard von Stumpel was quite capable
of the most degenerate and malicious of
acts. It would not hurt, however,
to have some idea of what he intended to do with
her. Even the slightest bit of
information might be useful in helping her to escape.
“Alright, Herr Doktor, you have me at
your mercy. What do you intend
to do with me?”
As she expected Keitel
answered. Cowards and bullies
like Keitel couldn’t resist gloating when they had some helpless victim
at their mercy.
Keitel licked his lips before replying, allowing
his eyes to drink in the incredible curves of Larra’s luscious
body. Even sporting a variety
of bruises and abrasions, her heavy breasts, tiny waist, flaring hips, and
long powerful legs, had his loins stirring almost
uncontrollably. He had to quickly
think of something else to stop his anatomy from betraying
him.
“First,” he answered, his voice
somewhat hoarse. “I am going
to examine you to make sure you are fit enough to survive what I have in
mind for you. Then there will
be the interrogation, and finally I have a little experiment that I think
you will find very interesting.”
Larra kept her breathing slow and
steady. The strain of hanging
from the chains was beginning to tell, and she was more than aware of the
eyes of Keitel and the four guards as they ogled her naked
body.
Keitel had not told her much that she could
not have guessed. She suspected
that he was keeping the “experiment” mysterious in order to create
a greater atmosphere of fear. She
was also certain that he had left out a great deal of what he intended to
do to her. They way that he and
the SS guards looked at her told her that the least she could expect was
to be gang raped.
Keitel moved toward her accompanied by one
of the guards carrying a length of chain.
It hardly seemed necessary considering her helpless situation, but
the Nazis were taking no chances.
Probably Keitel remembered the chaos she and her companions had caused
when they had escaped von Stumpel’s supposedly escape-proof
prison.
Clamping a shackle to each of her ankles the
SS guard spread her legs by attaching a chain to a heavy bolt in the floor
to either side of her. Larra
tried not to wince as the strain on her arms and shoulders
increased. Her body beaded with
a fine sweat in spite of the cold, she hung helpless as the Nazi doctor began
to run his hands over her body.
He started with her thighs, massaging the
firm muscles with both hands; moving them
steadily toward the area at the apex of her
legs. Larra fought to hold her
body completely still as the doctor “examined” her commenting on
the merits of her anatomy as he did so.
Gently he slid his middle finger into the
tight slit between her legs.
“Almost virginally tight,” he
murmured. “One would never
think you were little more than an English
whore.”
Larra bit back a grunt as he inserted a second
finger and then a third, thrusting his fingers into her until the palm of
his hand parted her labia.
“It is going to be most pleasant to explore this opening further
with another instrument,” Keitel leered.
He withdrew his hand and moved
it behind his victim, squeezing her firm buttocks before sliding his fingers
over the small of her back and then moving to the front of her
body.
Larra gritted her teeth in anger as Keitel
caressed the slight feminine curve of her abdomen and then ran his fingers
over the tight muscles of her washboard
stomach. He lingered longingly
over her heavy breasts, lifting each one and tweaking the prominent taut
nipples.
“You and I are going to have a most enjoyable
time together,” Keitel whispered in Larra’s
ear. “At least I will,”
he added as an afterthought.
Larra endured the humiliating examination
without comment, managing to hold her breathing steady even as the pain of
her awkward position increased. It
would not be too long before she was in acute agony as her shoulders and
arms were slowly pulled from their sockets and
joints. Her perspiration increased,
falling in droplets upon the flagstones that paved the corridor.
Keitel was breathing
heavily. “Lower her,”
he ordered. “And make sure
she is secured.”
Larra almost fell as her feet touched the
floor for the first time in almost an hour, but she caught her balance and
stood unsteadily as the SS guards closed in on
her. Her arms still held over
her head, she was helpless as they held her while her arms were slowly
lowered. A chain was locked onto
the chain connecting her manacles.
At the same time the shackles spreading her legs were
unfastened. However, to ensure
that she could not escape a chain was linked between her ankles and still
another chain was used to connect her ankles with her wrists, pulling her
arms downward.
“Bring her,” Keitel ordered, marching
down the hall. The guards followed,
dragging their reluctant captive with
them. Larra could move her feet
only in short steps and was forced to walk stooped due to the chain pulling
her chained wrists toward her ankles.
Awkwardly she swung each leg as best she could, shuffling along behind
the impatient doctor.
She was escorted to a small room off the main
corridor. It contained only one
significant article of furniture, an iron frame cot that was pushed against
one wall.
From Keitel’s
excited breathing Larra knew at once what was going to
happen. “Leave,” Keitel
ordered the guards. As the SS
guards carried out his order, he pushed the door closed and then attempted
to drag her toward the bed.
Larra did not go
quietly. Although chained hand
and foot she was not entirely
defenceless. She twisted her
body and broke free of Keitel’s grasp and then swinging her head forward
slammed it like a hammer into the middle of his
chest. The impact hurled him
back against the door. It was
not quite what Larra had planned, she had been aiming for his face, but forced
to bow her back due to the restrictions of the chains, it was the best she
could do.
It was almost
enough. Keitel collapsed against
the door, allowing Larra to close the gap between
them. One more step and she would
have used her feet to tramp him into the
floor. She didn’t get that
chance. The door burst open and
the SS guards poured into the room.
In short order she was held by two of the guards, while Keitel struggled
to his feet, his face a mask of rage.
“You half-breed whore,” he
raged. “You will pay for
that. When I am finished with
you I will turn you over to the guards.”
Larra struggled helplessly as she was forced
onto the bed. Keitel removed
the chain connecting her wrists and feet.
Immediately her hands were pulled over her head by one of the guards
and another took her feet. Keitel
dropped his trousers, revealing his fully erect
manhood. Forcing her legs apart
he positioned himself between her silken
thighs.
Held by two men and pinned by a third, the
adventuress continued to struggle even as Keitel had his way with
her. With a triumphant grunt
he penetrated her, driving his shaft deep into her warm sexual
cave. Larra arched her back in
a vain attempt to stop the rape, but her action simply served to drive Keitel
even more deeply within her. A
terrible scream split the air.
Keitel froze, as did his
victim. The scream had not come
from the struggling beauty.
“Damn von Jagger,” Keitel
murmured. “He will play
his little games.”
Larra’s reaction was one of acute
horror. She knew that
scream. “Melissa,”
she thought. “What are they
doing to you?”
Melissa sobbed as von Jagger pulled the hot
iron away from her breast. The
sickening stench of burned flesh filled the
air. Von Jagger replaced the
iron in the brazier “So, you are not as strong as you
thought? Perhaps now you will
be more willing to answer my questions.”
Melissa fought to control the sobs that wracked
her overstretched body. The agony
of the swastika burn on the inside of her left breast had her close to swooning,
the pain more acute than anything she had ever
experienced.
Von Jagger
approached. Raising his hand
he touched the livid wound he had burned into her
breast. Melissa flinched even
though the additional pain hardly
registered. “Such magnificent
breasts. I am afraid my little
decoration hardly improves them; however, if you continue to prove stubborn
I may be forced to repeat the process.”
Melissa’s breath came in harsh gasps
as she battled the pain. The
limited training she had received from Larra did not allow her to control
pain, and the anguish of the burn was so intense she doubted that such pain
could have been controlled.
However, she could not betray
Larra. She would die first; even
if it meant enduring the most excruciating torture.
Her silence, or rather her refusal to respond
seemed to anger von Jagger. He
returned to the brazier and took out the hot iron once
more. “Stubborn bitch,
I’ll brand every inch of your body if I have
to.”
“I’ll never tell you anything, you
Nazi scum,” Melissa gasped.
“You are not a man, just a coward, who victimizes those who cannot
fight back.”
“British whore,” von Jagger
growled. “I’ll show
you how much of a man I am.”
He tossed the iron into the brazier and moving to the winch that raised
and lowered her chains, he cranked it until her feet were once again on the
floor.
Exhausted from the pain and the physical strain
of her ordeal, Melissa could not stand.
As she was lowered she collapsed to her
knees. Von Jagger took advantage
of her weakness to chain her arms behind her and then forced her to her
feet.
Wobbling on legs that would barely support
her, Melissa was half-walked half- dragged across the
room. Just ahead of her was a
table. Melissa had been planked
enough times on table tops to realize what von Jagger had in mind, but she
was too weak to stop him.
She whimpered in pain as her seared breast
touched the rough wood of the table and then cried out in rage and pain as
von Jagger dropped his trousers, moved between her legs and took
her. Von Jagger’s idea of
sex was about as subtle as his idea of
interrogation. He rammed into
her again and again until he finally spurted into
her. Melissa lay semiconscious
on the table. Humiliated and
in terrible pain, she vowed vengeance on the vile
Nazi.
Keitel watched as the last of the SS guards
had his way with the English spy.
Her magnificent body was covered with sweat, and her features were
twisted in anger. “Not so
haughty now are we,
Completely humiliated, Larra said nothing
as her captors pulled her to her feet.
Her own degradation was secondary to her fear about Melissa’s
safety. The scream she had heard
had been blood-curdling; the cry of someone in terrible
pain.
Keitel led the way down the corridor, the
SS guards escorting their mortified
prisoner. They passed several
doors and finally stopped at one.
Keitel pushed it open and then
stooped. “Ah,” he
exclaimed, “my apologies
Standartenführer.
I did not know you were so busy.”
The smirk on his face belied his
words. Whatever was happening
in the room Keitel seemed to find quite
amusing. “I have the other
woman. Shall I bring her
in?”
Larra was dragged through the door.
Von Jagger leered as she
entered. “I see you have
been busy as well,” he commented, noting the bruises on her thighs and
the bite marks on her breasts.
“Have you learned anything of
interest?” von Jagger asked.
“Nothing that I did not already
know. This is
“You knew of this and did not tell
me!” Von Jagger’s voice
pitched high in a mixture of outrage and
surprise.
“I did not know until a few hours ago
when I first set eyes on her. As
for Miss Gallant I know how much you enjoy “interviewing” female
suspects. Have you met with the
Gypsy girl yet?”
Von Jagger shook his
head. “I doubt she knows
anything. I might keep her around
for a little sport, but nothing else.”
“Is ‘sport’ what you are calling
it now?” Keitel grinned.
Von Jagger
shrugged. “I call it what
I choose. In any case, did you
find out anything else while you were enjoying
“I… ah…I really didn’t
have the time to interrogate her properly,” Keitel
stammered.
“No, you were too busy stuffing her
loins,” von Jagger rejoined.
“Not that I blame you,” he added, his eyes traveling over
Larra’s sweat-begrimed body.
“Chain them both up over the pulley,”
von Jagger ordered.
The SS guards moved to carry out his
bidding. Larra and Melissa, the
latter still gasping from the pain of the swastika burn, were dragged into
the centre of the room.
Larra’s manacled hands were attached to a chain looped through
a pulley that was hanging from the
ceiling. The guards hauled on
the other end, jerking her arms over her
head. Then they took the other
end of the chain, and forcing Melissa on to the tips of her toes, linked
it to her shackles raising her arms into a position identical to that of
her companion.
Both women grimaced in
pain. They stood just a few metres
apart staring at one another’s exhausted
bodies. Larra had to fight back
tears rage and grief when she saw the red outline of the oozing burn on
Melissa’s right breast.
Melissa on her part had to battle with tears of her own when she saw
the evidence of the multiple violations her mentor had
endured.
But it was only when both women attempted
to relieve the pain of their stretched bodies that they realized what von
Jagger had done to them. Their
arms raised painfully over their heads, they could relieve the stress only
by hanging from the chains in order to place more weight on their
feet. Unfortunately such a maneuver
was possible only by increasing the strain on the arms of the other
woman.
Helpless and close to collapse from pain and
exhaustion, Larra and Melissa faced one another, the terrible strain of their
ordeal more than apparent on their faces.
Unfortunately, von Jagger and Keitel were not quite finished with
them.
Von Jagger slapped a buggy whip into his
palm. It consisted of a
leather-wrapped handle about four feet in length and ten feet of twisted
rawhide.
Keitel raised an
eyebrow. “Are you sure that
you want to mar those perfect bodies any more than you already
have? I would certainly like
to be able to enjoy the English bitch at least one more
time.”
“You are thinking with your penis,”
von Jagger growled. “We
need to know how much the British know about this
operation. The last thing we
need is a raid by the Royal Marines catching us
off-guard.
Reichsführer Himmler
gave this operation top priority; however, he did not see fit to give us
more than fifty of his men to act as
security. Instead we must rely
upon the Hungarian police to patrol the area and they are far from
satisfactory.”
“The Canadian girl did not break when you
burned her with a red-hot iron.
What makes you think she will talk after a little
flogging?”
“Torture is my area of expertise,” von
Jagger answered pompously.
“The breaking of a subject, especially one as stubborn as these
two women, is a cumulative process.
Given enough time I can break
anyone. Normally I would be content
to take as long as necessary to get the information I
want. However, I am in a bit
of a hurry. So far these two
women have been raped and one of them has been
branded. Flogging is just one
more step in the process.
Eventually the cumulative effect of the torture will have them telling
me everything I want to know.”
“Provided they do not pass out from pain
and exhaustion,” Keitel countered.
“I would say that neither of these women can take much
more.”
“That is why you are here, my dear
Doktor,” von Jagger replied lightly.
“It is your job to make sure that they are revived as soon as
possible if they should faint from the ordeal.”
“Surely there must be another way other
than beating them to a bloody pulp,” Keitel
protested.
“As I said, Herr Doktor,” von Jagger
sneered. “I am the
expert.” He raised the
whip.
Larra braced herself for the
pain. She had been saving herself
for the expected ordeal, refusing to let fear weaken her any
further. Still, the touch of
the whip upon her skin sent a jolt of agony through
her. Across from her Melissa’s
face expressed a new agony; that of watching her friend being
flogged. That changed slightly
when a few seconds later von Jagger applied the whip to her back as
well.
Van Jagger was democratic in his use of the
whip, flogging Larra on the forehand and Melissa on the
backhand. He was also expert
in its use, just a flick of his wrist sending the lash hard against the backs
of each hapless victim.
By the tenth blow, Larra was breathing
hard. Melissa, in much greater
pain to begin with was close to collapse.
Only the thought of what might happen to Larra kept her struggling
to remain standing, but the quivering of her long, powerful legs signaled
her imminent collapse.
Von Jagger kept up the flogging until
Melissa’s legs buckled. She
lasted thirty lashes before her strength gave
out. Her collapse left her hanging
limply by her wrists, the pulley transferring her full weight to Larra, jerking
her mentor off the floor. Larra
bit back a cry as her shoulders were almost wrenched from their
sockets.
Von Jagger lowered the
whip. “I’m
disappointed. I had thought from
you reputation that you would last longer than
this.”
Keitel moved forward and inspected first Melissa
and then Larra.
“They’ll survive, but they are going to have a painful next
few weeks.”
“Weeks?” snorted von
Jagger. “I have no intention
of keeping them alive that long.
But first, before they die, they will tell me everything they
know.”
As he finished speaking von Jagger moved to
a shelf containing assorted torture
paraphernalia. “This should
keep their minds focused on what I want,” he said picking up what looked
like a couple of C-clamps.
He marched over to Larra
first. “It seems a shame
to mar the beauty of your breasts, fraulein, but unfortunately the needs
of the Reich supersede that of your
bosom.”
Larra chest heaved as she fought back the
urge to scream. She was unable
to prevent a low moan from escaping her lips, however, as von Jagger closed
the C-clamp on her right breast. It
turned to a shriek of agony as the centimeter-thick screw pierced the soft
underside of her heavy, globular breasts.
Keitel shook his head and turned his head
away, sickened by the sight of such beauty being
defaced. Von Jagger, however,
was not finished. He still had
the second clamp. Leaving the
sobbing adventuress he moved around to Melissa and repeated the gruesome
process.
As the screw began to penetrate the young
woman’s rounded breast her eyes opened and a gratifying scream issued
from her mouth.
Von Jagger stepped
back. “Take them away, and
make sure that they are chained so that they cannot remove the
clamps. “Perhaps tomorrow
when I ask my questions I will get a more favourable
response.”
Weeping in uncontrollable agony the two women
were dragged from the room.
Tomorrow the interrogation would begin again, and this time von Jagger
expected to be successful.
In his private chambers Count Rodna frowned
as he heard the screams. The
Nazi idiots. Didn’t they
realize how dangerous such sounds were?
No, of course they didn’t.
The Nazis were the overconfident arrogant fools they always
were. He could only hope that
nothing came of their stupidity.
He
frowned. Victor was late with
his meal tonight. His stomach
growled; he was famished. The
damned Nazis were screwing up the castle
routine. He went to the wine
cabinet and poured himself a glass of the deep red
liquid. He sipped it
thoughtfully. Matters were getting
out of hand. Yesterday one of
the SS guards had even attempted to have his herd of goats removed from the
castle. He had been forced to
intervene with von Jagger to prevent that from
happening.
A faint bleating sound in the servant’s
passage caught his attention. He
sighed in relief. Victor had
finally arrived. Tomorrow he
would speak with von Jagger again.
Perhaps he could stop matters from going too far.
In their cell Larra whimpered in
agony. Her back was raw from
the flogging, her loins ached, but most of all the clamp piercing her breast
had her in excruciating pain. Her
wrists shackled to the head of the iron cot she had been thrown onto, she
could do nothing to alleviate the pain except called on her training to suppress
the worst of it.
Just as bad as the pain, however,
was having to listen to Melissa’s
moans. The girl was suffering
terribly and her cries wrenched at Larra’s
heart. The situation was
hopeless. Ravaged, brutalized,
and mutilated she and Melissa were
doomed. And then she heard a
strange grating sound.
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