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Von Stumpel glared at his female
prisoners. It was because of
them that he was in this predicament.
He was trapped in a desert wasteland with five useless
captives. It just wouldn’t
do. Even the process of keeping
them alive had been difficult. The
women had been released one by one so that they could attend to private
functions, and find food and water.
There were dates to eat around the oasis, so that was one problem
solved. But they had to be watched
constantly. The first night at
the oasis had convinced him that he wouldn’t last long with that
regimen. He and Schallenberger
had taken turns standing watch.
By morning they were both irritable and exhausted.
There was little chance of
rescue. No one had the slightest
idea where they were. Even he
had only a vague notion of their
location. Somewhere in southwest
The aircraft was of some
help. Amongst the gear were several
packs of emergency rations. That
would give them enough food to last several
days. Water would be the biggest
problem, but he had a solution to that.
In order to trek the distance required he would need porters and he
had five who were ready made.
Schallenberger had scoured the aircraft for
containers. They had found a
number of containers that would do including a few engine parts that were
used to hold oil. The water in
them wouldn’t taste very good, but von Stumpel did not intend to drink
it himself. He had to keep his
prisoners alive, at least for the first part of the trip.
They were loaded and ready to
go. Carrying all the food and
water meant that he had to allow them to have their arms free, but he and
Schallenberger would flank them with their submachine guns at the
ready. In addition, they were
tethered at the neck to one another.
Escape should be impossible, provided he and Schallenberger remained
alert.
“Alright,” von Stumpel said, gesturing
with his Schmeiser toward the women.
“Move out.”
The trek through the desert wasteland was
sheer torture. Mile after mile
the five women marched forward under the watchful eyes of their
captors. All of them were heavily
burdened with supplies of food and water, but von Stumpel rarely allowed
them to eat or drink. It was
clear that he was keeping the bulk of the supplies for himself and
Schallenberger. All that prevented
physical collapse was the frequent rest stops they made so that von Stumpel
could recover his strength. The
Nazi scientist was in very poor physical condition and needed to stop frequently
to rest. If it had not been for
this fact none of the women would have survived even the first
day.
It
was a brutal ordeal. The furnace
heat of the sun beat down on them.
Larra and her companions had only weak protection against its penetrating
rays. Laden with loads weighing
over 60 pounds each, they were soon on the verge of
collapse. The weight did not
seem like much, but in the harsh desert environment it was a crushing
burden. The first day of the
march was exhausting. That night
von Stumpel gave them a little food and water that stank of
oil. He and Schallenberger were
careful to drink from a different
container. After their sparse
meal the five women were roped together.
Von Stumpel and Schallenberger took turns watching them all night,
a duty that did not leave either of their captors in a particularly good
mood, something that was made obvious shortly after they set
out.
Von Stumpel had brought along a length of
strapping from the plane’s cargo
hold. He used it like a whip,
bringing it down across the exposed parts of their bodies in an attempt to
make them move faster. Fortunately,
he found this activity so tiring in the burning heat that he soon gave it
up.
The second day ended the same way as the
first. By this time the supplies
of water the women were carrying had been depleted
somewhat. It was here that von
Stumpel revealed the rest of his plan.
They had stopped by a cluster of large
boulders. Von Stumpel waited
until the women had unloaded their burdens then he pointed his submachine
gun at Larra. “Untie yourself,
Threatened by the submachine gun, Larra did
as she was asked. As soon as
she was clear of the rest of the women Schallenberger approached
her. “Get down on your knees,
you mongrel bitch,” the tall blonde
ordered.
Larra did as she was
ordered. Exhausted from the long
walk, and suffering slightly from heat stroke, she was in no position to
resist. As soon as she went to
her knees, Schallenberger tied her hands in front of her and then dragged
her toward a large boulder.
The boulder was about waist high, and
Schallenberger pulled her across it and tied the bindings to a rock outcrop
on the other side. Larra showed
no emotion, but felt a sense of hopelessness flood over
her. The position she was in
was one that had become all to familiar.
“You have served your purpose,”
von Stumpel said. “You are
no longer needed as a pack animal, and you are not pure breeding
stock. As a result, I have no
further use for you, except for one last service.”
Von Stumpel moved behind her while Schallenberger
kept her companions covered. There
was no mistaking his intention.
Larra strained futilely at the tether that bound her wrists, but
Schallenberger had tied her quite well, and the other end of the tether was
firmly anchored. She could only
struggle helplessly as von Stumpel began to undress
her.
He began with the regulation German army boots
that Larra had appropriated from the guard Jia Li had taken
out. He removed them and tossed
them aside. “You won’t
be needing these,” the doctor
sneered. Then he unbuckled her
belt, and pulled her pants down around her
ankles. Beneath the army issue
trousers, Larra was wearing only a pair of Schallenberger’s
panties. They lasted only a few
seconds before they were torn from her
loins. In desperation, she tried
to kick back at von Stumpel, but it was a move the doctor had been
expecting. He stepped back out
of the way and then before Larra could recover, pinned her too the rock and
removed her upper garments.
“Still some fight I see,” von Stumpel
commented. “Good, that will
make this so much more enjoyable.”
Larra sprawled across the
boulder. She was now entirely
naked and wide open to anything von Stumpel might want to do to
her. He chose to punish her
first.
“Whap!” The
length of strapping von Stumpel carried left a nasty red welt across
Larra’s backside. She shuddered,
but made no sound.
“What an incredible bitch,” thought
von Stumpel. “So very strong
and defiant. It is unfortunate
that she is fit for no more than sexual
pleasure.” He raised his
makeshift whip and brought it down again.
He did not expect Larra to scream, and she
did not disappoint him. He gave
her four dozen lashes, leaving her naked body crisscrossed with welts and
bruises, but her only response was a quickening of her
breathing. Given enough time
she would probably break, but von Stumpel was fully
aroused. Unbuckling his pants,
he parted her thighs and drove into her.
“Uunnggh!” Larra grunted as she was
taken. She was close to the end
of her endurance and in desperate need of
water. With all of her remaining
strength she pulled against the straps that held her, but there was no give,
Schallenberger had tied her too well.
As on so many other occasions she had no choice but to endure what
was being done to her.
Von Stumpel drew out the rape for as long
as possible. It was his way of
saying goodbye to the half-breed bitch.
When he was finished the woman lay exhausted, the boulder she was
lying on wet with her sweat and blood trickling down her
thighs.
“Well, now it is goodbye, bitch,”
von Stumpel said as he pulled up his
pants. “I would enjoy killing
you, but I think leaving you to the elements is so much more
fitting.”
Without another word he strode
away. Returning to the other
women he set up camp as he had before, leaving Larra lying helplessly on
the large boulder. Too weak to
move she lay there throughout the night.
At first she welcomed the cooling of the desert heat, but as the night
wore on and the temperature continued to drop she began to feel the chill
of the cooler air. For awhile
the rock she was lying on radiated heat back into her body, but soon that
was used up. After that it was
her body that heated the rock. By
morning she was shivering uncontrollably and barely
conscious.
“Check the Jap bitch,” von Stumpel
order Schallenberger. “Make
sure she’s not going to
escape.”
“Ja,
Herr Doktor,” Schallenberger
replied. She strode over to where
the semi-conscious adventurer lay.
She curled her lip in distain.
“Mongrel,” she murmured.
“She is of no danger to us,
doctor. I doubt that she will
live long.”
“Excellent,” von Stumpel
replied. “Time to move
out.”
Together he and Schallenberger prodded the
other women on their way. With
any luck he would reach Italian held territory without losing all of his
pack animals. He wanted to keep
at least one of them alive, for entertainment purposes if nothing
else.
Larra stopped
shivering. She was quite warm
already and it was only early morning.
Von Stumpel and his prisoners had moved off before dawn, the better
to take advantage of the cooler
temperatures. She had been too
weak to respond when Schallenberger had come to check on her, but realized
that she had to do something before it was too
late. She drew on all of her
oriental skills to draw energy from what reserves she had
left. Then she began to work
on her bonds.
Schallenberger had indeed done a good
job. The knots were well tied
and very difficult to reach. The
sun beat down without mercy on her unprotected
body. Eventually it was directly
overhead, its burning heat drying up the welts on her battered body, but
it was far from a blessing, as her skin soon began to blister under the intense
radiation.
It took her until the sun was past its zenith
to loosen the first knot. Had
she been in better condition it would not have taken as long, but Larra was
almost at the end of her rope, her slender reserves of energy depleting rapidly.
That first knot, however, was
all she needed. Within half an
hour she had freed herself and slid from the boulder into its
shade.
She was tempted to sit there and recover her
strength. But she had no strength
to recover. If she stayed where
she was her body would lock up and she would
die. She forced herself to her
feet and surveyed the area. Their
trek had taken them out of the dunes and into an area of reg
desert. It was primarily an area
of broken rock with a few scattered plants here and
there. Larra tried to remember
what she had learned about the
An hour later she was only minutes away from
physical collapse. She had nothing
left. It had been more than a
day since she had drunk anything.
She could no longer go on.
Then she spotted something.
The tracks of von Stumpel and his prisoners went right past a few
dried up desert plants. Something
about them popped into of Larra’s
mind. She dropped to her knees
and began to dig frantically using just her
hands. She dug down about a foot
before she found what she was looking
for. Her hands closed about a
thick succulent root. With the
last of her strength she wrenched it from the ground and raised it too her
lips. She hoped that she remembered
correctly. There were several
varieties of water storing desert plants, some of them
toxic. But it did not
matter. If the plant did not
have water that was fit to drink she would die
anyway. She squeezed the root,
and sucked up the moisture that oozed from the pulpy
fibres. It tasted bitter, but
that did not matter. It was water
and that was all that was relevant.
It took several roots to satisfy her
thirst. She was still famished,
but that would have to wait. She
was not going to die; at least not today.
Now she had to catch von Stumpel.
He had several hours start on her, but she had one advantage that
he did not. She recognized the
area she was in. Well, perhaps
recognized would not be the exact
description. But she had been
near where she was before. On
the horizon was a low range of mountains.
It was a landmark that she had seen
before. With a grim smile she
started out.
Von Stumpel rubbed his
eyes. It seemed too good to be
true. After three days of marching
under the blazing sun the tops of green waving palms trees stretched before
him. By sheer good fortune he
had stumbled upon an oasis in the middle of one of the most god-forsaken
areas on earth. He urged his
captives forward. Perhaps he
would not have to kill all of them after
all. He should be able to replenish
his water supply and perhaps even make contact with someone who could help
him out of this desert hell.
Abdullah cradled his antique
rifle. He had spotted the strangers
long before they reached the oasis.
He had never seen anything like
them. Five pale-skinned women,
four of them linked to one another by a tether about each of their necks
and one walking free. Behind
them strode a heavily armed man.
None of them were properly equipped for desert
travel. He looked behind
him. Several other members of
his extended family were behind him.
All of them watched the approach of the strangers with
trepidation. Abdullah was familiar
with only one sort of people who took others
prisoner. They were his sworn
enemies. However, these people
did not look like the slavers he had encountered before and so he allowed
them to approach. But he kept
his rifle at the ready.
Von Stumpel
stopped. The oasis was not
deserted. It was occupied by
a number of menacing looking savages.
The faces of the men were veiled, only their eyes showing, no doubt
to protect their identity. He
snapped the safety off his submachine
gun. “Gertie,” he
said. “Get
ready.”
Katie turned toward von Stumpel and
Schallenberger. She had heard
the sound of the weapon being prepared.
“Don’t shoot, you fools.
They’re Tuareg. They
won’t harm you.”
“Then why are they masked, fraulein?”
von Stumpel said.
“They’re nothing but a bunch of desert
cutthroats.”
“It’s part of their
culture. Tuareg men are always
masked.”
But von Stumpel was not
listening. Pointing his submachine
gun toward the desert encampment he emptied the magazine.
It was fortunate for the Tuareg that von Stumpel
knew so little about weapons. The
range was far too great for the short-ranged
Schmeiser. Most of the bullets
struck the sand in front of the Tuareg
encampment. But it was enough
to send the desert nomads running for
cover. Several of them raised
their rifles and fired back.
Abdullah was
enraged. He had shown no hostile
intent as the strangers encroached upon his oasis, but he had been fired
upon without warning. Even more
infuriating was the fact that the women and children were in the tents, and
the bullets had just missed them.
Unslinging his rifle he returned fire.
The outmoded weapons he and his family possessed
could not match the firepower of the strangers, but they did have greater
range. The man who had fired
upon them and his woman companion dropped to the ground, leaving the other
women completely exposed. It confirmed what he had
surmised. The strange white man
was a slaver and the four women his
prisoners. He reloaded his
rifle. Signaling to the other
men, he kept low and closed in for the kill.
Von Stumpel realized that he had made a
mistake. He should have gotten
closer before opening up on the desert
bandits. Now he and Schallenberger
were pinned down while they were slowly
surrounded. “Gertie,”
he shouted. “We’ve
got to make a run for it.”
Schallenberger seemed well aware of the
situation. She nodded quickly
and got to her knees. Von Stumpel
raised his weapon again and fired another burst in the direction of the tents
then he got to his feet and with Schallenberger following, raced toward a
rocky outcrop a few meters away.
Abdullah made no attempt to
follow. The firepower of the
retreating enemy matched everything in his camp, and the rocks the man and
the woman had fled to were a natural
fortress. He could
wait. He controlled the
oasis. Sooner or later the cowardly
slavers would have to come out and then he would have
them. In the meantime, he could
release their prisoners.
“Shots,” thought
Larra. “My god I hope that
nothing has happened to the
others.” The first thing
that popped into her mind was the fact that von Stumpel might have decided
to get rid of another of his prisoners.
But there were too many shots.
Several dozen in fact. That
made her even more worried. Perhaps
her companions had tried to escape and von Stumpel and Schallenberger had
gunned them down. Then there
was another sound. A different
kind of firearm.
“That’s rifle fire,” Larra
murmured. Von Stumpel and
Schallenberger didn’t have any
rifles. She quickened her
pace. Something else was going
on and she needed to find out what.
Melissa flung down her
burden. Acting as a pack mule
for von Stumpel and Schallenberger had driven her to the limits of her
endurance. She dropped to the
ground beside the other women and waited to see what would
happen. By sheer good fortune
their German captors had been driven off, but now they were at the mercy
of their rescuers. They might
not be any better off.
Rashida walked quickly toward the four white
women. They appeared exhausted
and dehydrated. It was important
to get them out of the sun as quickly as
possible. As the ranking matriarch
it was her right and responsibility to see that they were given the hospitality
of the desert. She motioned to
her daughters to follow and aid her.
“An oasis,” Larra
thought. But where were her
companions and their abductors?
Then she saw the cluster of tents.
Tuareg. That might explain
the gunfire. The desert nomads
were known to jealously guard their water
sources. Despite years of colonial
rule the nomadic people had never been completely
subjugated. What sort of reception
would she get walking into their camp?
It didn’t matter. The
little bit of water she had managed to squeeze out of the roots of the desert
plant had got her this far, but she could go no
further. There was nothing for
it but to walk into the Tuareg camp and hope for the
best. She strode forward, making
no effort to hide herself.
“Herr Doktor,” Schallenberger
said. “We can’t remain
here. There is no food or
water. We will have to take what
we have and chance the desert.”
“Shut up you blonde twat; I make the
decisions here,” von Stumpel replied
furiously. But he knew that
Schallenberger was right. Their
position might be difficult to attack, but all the desert savages had to
do was wait them out.
He pointed to a faint track leading from the
oasis. “That looks like
some sort of road. Perhaps a
caravan route. If we take it
we might be able to get away.”
It was a slim chance, but he and Gertie were running out of
options. They could not stay
where they were and if they tried to get to the oasis they would be
killed. The road was their only
choice. They might make
it. Between the two of them they
had water for two days and food for
three. “We’ll wait
until night and then make a break for it.”
Larra smiled at her
companions. For now they were
safe. Somewhere out in the desert
were von Stumpel and Schallenberger. But she would worry about them
later. By good fortune they had
fallen in among friends. Tuareg
society was firmly matriarchical.
The women owned the land, which meant the oasis and unlike other Muslim
people did not wear the veil.
Instead it was the men who were veiled, their faces remaining covered
even in front of family members.
It was a strange
gathering. Larra and her companions
dressed in rags, the Tuareg women in their head to foot robes, and the veiled
Turaeg men, only their eyes showing.
One of the men spoke enough Arabic for Larra to communicate with
him. In a few days, after the
women had a few days to recover from their ordeal, he would take them to
the nearest British base, a small desert outpost that Larra had never heard
of. It was part of desert
hospitality. The Tuareg asked
no reward for helping them, but Larra would make sure that her new friends
received a generous gift in return for their
services. In the meantime she
would eat, drink, and rest up. She
wondered where von Stumpel and Schallenberger were.
The sweat that poured from von Stumpel’s
body evaporated almost immediately into the desert
air. He was surrounded by the
most untidy and menacing looking group of individuals he had ever
seen. He and Schallenberger had
stumbled into them shortly before morning while making their way down the
rough track they had taken to escape the savages by the
oasis. They had immediately been
surrounded and stripped of all their possessions, leaving them nothing but
the clothes on their backs, at least as far as he was
concerned. His fear was what
the thought filthy desert savages planned to do with
him. So far, other than being
pushed around a bit he had not been
harmed. That was not the case
with Schallenberger.
Gertrude Schallenberger screamed as the vile
smelling brute thrust into her. The
desert bandits had been raping her for
hours. All the while von Stumpel
knelt a few feet away, forced to watch her utter
degradation. Her throat was so
hoarse from screaming that her cries were hardly more than a frog-like
croak. She had no idea how many
times she had been violated. The
man raping her now had taken her at least twice
before. She was close to fainting
from exhaustion. It was a horrible
ordeal. To be so dishonored by
such non-Aryan scum was the greatest
humiliation. Even worse was the
fear of what was going to be done with
her. She expected that the band
of murdering thieves that had captured her would soon cut her throat, and
the idea terrified her even more than the fear of further sexual
debasement.
Ali bin Ahmed flicked the safety catch off the
Schmeiser submachine gun he had relieved from his male
prisoner. It was a magnificent
weapon, but he doubted that he would readily come by a supply of ammunition
for it, which meant it was basically
useless. But it would be fun
to see how well it worked. He
looked at the pale form of the trembling man he and his men had
captured. Like the gun, he was
of little value. It was unlikely
that he would fetch any sort of price in the slave
market. It was time to get rid
of him. The woman on the other
hand was well worth keeping. His
eyes swept over her naked body.
Even covered with filth from a day of servicing his men, she was a
magnificent beauty. Long blonde
hair; high full, pink-nippled breasts; a narrow waist; flaring hips - the
list of her physical assets was
impressive. And those wide blue
eyes and full lips. He would
have to enjoy her again, once his men were through with
her.
It was too bad that she was not a
virgin. She would have been worth
thousands if she had been untouched.
However, there were compensating factors, as he and his men had
discovered. She was a delightful
fuck, strong and athletic. Her
struggles as she attempted to preserve her virtue made raping her so much
more enjoyable. Tonight he would
take her to his tent and he would enjoy her at his
leisure. She would still fetch
a good price in the slave market.
Blonde white women were hard to come
by.
It was time to test the
gun. He would give his prisoner
a running start and see how far he got.
“Get up,” he said, prodding the kneeling man with his
foot.
“What are you going to do?” quavered
the man. He was very pale and
his eyes were wide with terror.
Ali pointed the submachine gun at
him. “Run,” he
said. For emphasis he pointed
the gun at the man’s groin.
“No,” the man
begged. “You cannot kill
me. I am a senior member of the
Third Reich. You will be
punished. You will not escape
the might of Adolf Hitler.”
Ali shrugged and pulled the
trigger. It was too bad the man
had refused to run. It would
have been so much more satisfying to shoot him as he tried to
escape. Still it was impressive
the way the bullets ripped him apart.
He spat on the bloody corpse, wondering who the man had been and where he had come from. It didn’t really matter now, but it might have been interesting to find out who this Hitler person was that he kept on talking about. He turned back to the woman. Rashid was almost finished. Then it would be his turn again.
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