KARENIN
I wanna revive Hitler but I can't figure out how
- Jul 2, 2022
- 3,188
While searching for photos of Waffen-SS Standartenführer Max Wünsche, Jewgle directed me to the tumblr blog of some cunt claiming to be a hanukkah-observing kikess who "blocks n*zi-looking blogs"
... yet she writes long, explicitly pornographic stories about herself dick-riding every notable Wehrmacht and SS officer, from Jochim Peiper to Hitler's personal physician Karl Brandt, despite her alleged hatred for "n*zis" 
Creative writers of neets.me, take notes!
First up, this jewess imagines being forcibly culturally-enriched by Big Sturmbannführer cock
Creative writers of neets.me, take notes!First up, this jewess imagines being forcibly culturally-enriched by Big Sturmbannführer cock
Next up, her self-insert character cucks the Sturmbannführer with a Standartenführer, Max WünscheChildren
pairing: Joachim Peiper/OC
warnings: nsfw, noncon
The sink was running.
The dull trickle of water sounded in her ears as she woke up. Minna sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes.
Sturmbannführer Joachim Peiper’s room was delicately furnished, with dark hardwood walls and floors. It had a velvet sofa to the side of the floor-length window. A large polished wardrobe was hanging open, revealing several sets of neatly-pressed suits, gray and black and white. And to the side was a carved wooden dresser with a silver mirror, under a large poster of the Führer.
The water shut off. Joachim leaned into view, shaving cream covering his chin. “Minna, are you awake? My, my, but you were asleep very deeply. You didn’t move when I kissed or caressed you.”
And probably did even worse things to me, she thought with a shudder of horror. She could imagine him slipping his tongue inside her, kneading her breasts to sharp tips and watching, self-satisfied, as she moaned unconsciously and her cheeks flushed pink.
Minna followed him into the bathroom, her head bowed.
She brushed her hair back as she reached the bathroom. The walls were white, marble, surrounding the massive tub in the middle and the long sink. The silver of the faucet glinted in the white light.
As she splashed water on her face and saw her refection in the mirror. Her hair was tangled and eyes red with sadness or lack of sleep - or both.
She heard scrapes as her husband shaved, delicately scraping the foam off his chin. He was dressed-down in a white button-up shirt and loose pants. His hair was uncombed and falling into his eyes. He looked so different from the well-groomed, sleek caricature he showed to the world, of the well-respected right hand man of Reichsführer Himmler.
Soon to be Obersturmbannführer. The thought made her sick. She leaned against the counter. Whenever she moved, the place between her legs throbbed in brief stings of pain. He had not been gentle with her last night.
MInna was beginning to feel that she would have to get used to it.
Jochen tapped his razor against the sink. He was humming under his breath, something that sounded like a panzermarch.
Minna felt misery bubbling up inside her, but it was passionless, without wind, just a useless emotion she had to put effort into. She took a toothbrush and stuck it in her mouth, going through the motions of the morning.
She stiffened as she felt his hand thread through her hair, untangling her messy gold locks.
“You’re going to have to wash your hair today, Schatzie. Tomorrow we’ll have you fitted for a new gown for the gala.”
She refused to answer and spat into the sink. Was this what life had in store for her now? As a Schutzstaffel wife doomed to smile for the cameras and consent to cheerful fakery about her husband, while the dark underbelly of blood and hatred permeated her household?
“And afterwards, I’ll be attending the Führer’s private dinner with you on my arm.”
That last announcement made her wonder what Max would do when he saw them together as husband and wife. He was the Führer’s adjutant. He would, of course, have access to the evening as well.
“How’s Max?” she asked casually, mind slipping.
There was a loud scraping noise and as Minna looked over, Jochen was removing the razor from his face. Blood was dripping down his chin from a slash against his skin.
“You do know how to ruin the mood, don’t you, Frau Peiper?”
His voice was merry, but she heard a crack underneath it. She gripped the rim of the sink as he turned toward her.
“I’m sorry,” she said weakly. “It’s just, he’s a good friend of mine, and I—“
“Ssh.” He silenced her, gripped her arm and pulled her toward him, caging her in against the counter. She was terrified as he leaned in closer, his abdomen pressing against her belly and forcing her legs apart.
“I think perhaps you should focus on more important things, Minna Peiper.” His voice was quiet and gentle but she could hear the bane underneath his tone, dripping like poison.
“Like what you should wear to our dinner…or what color you want the nursery to be decorated in.”
He used his knees to spread hers open, and she heard the undoing of a zipper. The marble of the counter was cold against her back as he shoved her nightgown up.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it—“ her voice was a pathetic squeak.
He entered her abruptly, without any preparation, his hard, thick length tearing through her dry hole. She nearly cried in pain as he began to pump, his strong waist pushing forward with hard thrusts.
He was panting, not with arousal but exertion.
She could tell this was meant to be punishment, by the way he cruelly changed angles and pressed dryly against her soft walls. His hard hands gripped her waist through the filmy fabric of her nightgown.
“I think you have too much free time on your hands to be thinking about such things…maybe you should start to get onto your wifely duties, Minna, and give me a baby.”
His words made a sudden, sickening lurch hit her belly. Her fight suddenly renewed, she tried to skitter backwards on her elbows, but his hands like iron gripped her waist, leaving bruises she was sure would show up purple for days.
“Get away from me!” she wailed, lashing out with a foot, but he caught her ankle in his vice like grip.
“There’s that spunky girl I know! Wunderbar, wunderbar. I knew I hadn’t made a mistake when I chose you instead of good, boring Sigurd Hinrichsen. This is going to be a very, very fun marriage.”
He lovingly drove himself inside her, his cock penetrating deeply into her spasming cunt. To her it felt more like a knife, cleaving her insides and tearing her open to reveal her twitching red belly to the world.
“I can’t do this,” she wept, her previously strong voice a mess of weakness and begging. “I can’t…we can’t do this, Jochen. We can’t have a family like this. With me hating you. With you doing this to me.”
“Ssh,” Despite his soft tone, the blond man punctuated his words with another hard thrust. Her back squeaked across the hard, cold marble, her nightgown pulled up above her waist. She was pushed against the cold edge of the countertop, both legs spread obscenely wide as he pressed his hard, muscled abdomen against her trembling belly.
“You will accept it in time, as years go by. I won’t have to force myself on you anymore. You’ll have children that you will love and coddle. You will greet me at the door with a loving smile and dinner on the table. You’ll be happy with me. Do you know why?”
Each time he brought his hips forward, rebellious sparks ignited deep in her womb as her cunt tightened under his onslaught. Her lower lips, spread like a flower, clenched his hard length as he withdrew an inch.
“I won’t,” she wept weakly. “I won’t. I’ll never stop hating you, you murderer—“
“Because you are lonely. The hole in your chest—you want it to be filled by something, don’t you? Our children will give you joy. I will give you love, a home. And in the end, that is all you really want. Not justice, or revenge. Just a warm body beside you. A loving husband. A sleeping child in your arms.’
She didn’t want this—no, she didn’t want a baby, not something that clung to her chest and wailed when she tried to sleep—not something with his hair and eyes, looking at her with his dark, unfathomable gaze.
But…a traitorous part of her mind whispered…maybe the softness of a child…maybe it would chase some of her loneliness away…
The man above her shuddered and shot his seed inside her unprotected womb.
“Oh, how I love you, Minna. You might not believe it, but I do. Ich liebe dich, Minnochka. We’ll have a lovely life together, you and I.”
Karl Brandt is next on the cock carousellGift giving - I wrote this piece beforehand, but just the main plot (which is sex) and did my best to edit it. It’s not very good haha
I can’t believe I’m doing Max Wünsche this dirty
you have been warned
or warmed.
or something along these lines.
Max and Minna sat side by side on the couch, enthusiastically opening their gifts, anticipation beaming brightly in their eyes. Soft white snow has begun to fall gracefully like angels wings outside the frosted window of the house; a house warmed by heat from the log fire and from the newly discovered love of the couple currently inhabiting it’s living room.
Max managed to open his present first; he had ripped his way carelessly through the skilfully wrapped, brightly coloured Christmas paper.
“Wow!” he exclaimed with great awe, his eye filled with surprise. “How did you…”
The amber light shined on the aged American whiskey, a rarety to get a hold on during these difficult times.
“It’s my little secret. Don’t ask.’
A few minutes later Minna had gotten into her present too. A bright smile broke across her face as she gazed at the glint of silver chain with a heart-shaped locket.
“Oh Max…” she gasped. Inside the face of her parents beamed back at her.
‘I know you miss them. Their memory brings a smile to your face.’
‘I just smiled when I gave you your gift.’
“True, but I would still like to see you smile more often.”
“I smiled earlier… when you kissed me,” she prompted.
“Oh, yes so you did.” Max took the hint and leaned down, softly brushing his warm firm lips against hers.
She played the game and smiled up at him, passion filling her eyes. He pulled her closer with the arm that was over her shoulder and cupped her cheek with the other. Kissing her again, he slid his tongue across her lower lip.
Minna opened her mouth to grant his tongue entry whilst reaching up and wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him tightly against her.
She had often fantasized of how it would be between them, how he would taste. She found herself engulfed by the smoky, earthy flavour of whiskey mixed with raw masculinity.
Max allowed himself to feast at her as he gently angled her head with his hands; she tasted faintly of wine and chocolate. However floating just beneath those he could taste the essence that, even though he’d never tasted it before, he could only uniquely describe as hers and hers alone.
As Minna continued to meet him kiss for kiss, she felt the tentative movement of his hand down her arm, slowly trailing along the soft fabric there, before moving carefully to the underside of her breast. She moaned, inadvertently breaking their oral contact.
Her eyes slowly opened, meeting his. Her eyes were unfocused and dilated from her swirling desires, passion clearly evident in her delicate features. Her mouth, pink and moist was parted ever so slightly, revealing her teeth.
He smiled wickedly, and brought his warm hand around front just a bit more. He cupped the ample swell of her breast through the silkiness of her dress. He ran his thumb across her nipple with a gentle stroke.
Minna’s head lolled back on her shoulders and her mouth opened more as she gasped loudly. The long tresses of her hair fell gently down onto her shoulder blades.
She was in a state of bliss.
Max played her like a fine instrument, causing her to float weightlessly to the heavens.
Max smiled one again, running his fingers across her now fully hard nipple once again, this time with a bit more force. The response she was giving him was causing his desire to burn out of control a fact evident by his ever hardening arousal, which was becoming increasingly noticeable.
“Oh God…” she muttered under her breath.
Max pushed the thick veil of hair which obscured the curve of her neck out of the way, with his hand. Then with his warm moist mouth, he began to nip, lick and kiss his way up the curves, dips, and lines of her arched neck.
“Max!” she purred loudly as her mouth fell open widely, and shallow pants escaped from her mouth. She was swirling, lost and out of control in a hot sea of sensation. Nothing she had ever experienced before had prepared her for this.
Max was losing control; her moans and gasps engulfing him and arousing him more than any woman before. Lust was driving him out of his mind, his blood burning with a fire he knew only she could quench. It took all that he had to keep from pushing her back onto the sofa and taking her there and then.
Reluctantly he pulled away slightly.
“Wha… I…Don’t stop…” she pleaded, her voice quite faint from his ministrations.
“If we don’t stop, I can’t be held responsible for my actions,” he told her, flashing her a weak smile, his eyes shadowy and distant.
Minna glanced down; the bulge in his pants was clearly displaying his predicament.
“Who said I was going to hold you responsible?” she asked, unable to take her eyes of his arousal.
“I don’t want to rush you,” Max tried to explain.
“What if I want to be rushed?” She began to slowly undo the smooth buttons of his shirt. Her steady hand progressed until the offending garment was hanging off his shoulders. She placed her small cool hands on his warm flesh and began to memorise every detail of the man before her.
Max’s head fell back as a new surge of arousal overcame him. His blue eyes darkened by lust met hers.
“Are you sure?” The glimmering tree light in the corner reflected in their gazes.
He was expecting her to say no, she could see it.
Minna stood and for a moment, Max thought he had blown it, but she surprised him. She reached behind her and lowered the short zip at the back of her dress and elegantly removed it and he suddenly forgot how to breath again.
Then, standing there in nothing but her knickers and thigh-highs, she looked him straight in the eye.
“I’m sure,” she replied.
They stood facing each other before the heat of the fireplace, and Max raised his hands to caress her face.
She leaned into his touch as he drew them down along her neck. His thumbs jostled as her pulse coursed beneath them. The soft skin of her shoulders; the planes of her collarbone; places to be explored with mouth and fingers.
He buried his face in her hair, inhaling traces of feminity. He lifted the strands of hair, revealing the curve of her neck. His lips and tongue traced a line to her mouth. Swollen lips opened for him, murmuring her arousal.
Once more, she slid her hands inside his open shirt, feeling the taut skin beneath. The heat and the pounding of his heart left her breathless. She pushed the shirt of his shoulders and down his arms, exposing him completely. Needing to feel his skin against hers, she took a step towards him.
Standing in front of the light coming in through the fireplace, creating a festive golden light cascading upon them, Minna finished undressing her lover.
Once they were both naked, he pushed her down to the lush rug.
He glided his mouth along her throat, each sucking kiss drawing her into a firestorm of passion. His hands cupped her breasts as he raised one to his lips and took in the hard pink bud as he teased and lightly pulled the other with his fingers.
He stopped to look at her, his Minna. His mouth left her skin and she arched to meet him. Her head was thrown back. Her eyes were dark, unfocused pools; a low moan came from her throat.
His tongue began to trace a very light line down one breast, flicking gently at her nipple as he passed it. Past the deep curve of her belly, he showered her skin with light kisses. Soon his hands were on her thighs, parting them. More feather kisses on the silky flesh from her knee to her curls. He moved to her other thigh, his lips pressing harder, teeth nipping at that sensitive skin.
She arched up, moving towards his mouth. He brushed his lips across her, his tongue tastng her sweet essence.
His tongue snaked towards her centre, swirling; once, twice, three times.
His attentions brought her to a fast, startling climax. Her body shook; she cried out. He could feel her quaking beneath his lips. He held her hips and pressed her closer to him, determined to make her pleasure last as long as possible. She called out his name and he moved with her until she stilled.
He moved up to meet her gaze, offering his wet lips. She put her arms around him and kissed, licked, nipped that smile, tasting her own desire. He gazed into her eyes; she was blushing. He looked at her questioningly.
“You are so beautiful,” he told her, wrapping her in his arms and softly kissing her brow, eyes, nose.
Minna felt his hard, silken length pressing against her hip. She reached to caress him, running her hand up and down, squeezing him gently. She pulled him towards her. He moved obligingly, insinuating his knees between her thighs. He rubbed himself against her nether lips, parting them. He slowly entered and then withdrew. He didn’t take his eyes from her face, gauging her reaction.
Her lips trembled. A gasp caught in her throat. Pleasure was inscribed on the inky depths of her eyes.
He pushed forward again.
She felt him stretching her and she relaxed to take him in. Her heat surrounded him and he thrust all the way in. She held him so tightly, with her pale thighs wrapped around his. Max put his hands under her behind, and drove deeper. He pressed his lips to hers and matched each thrust with his tongue. Then he slowed and stopped moving entirely.
Rising on his forearms, he looked at her and swept the hair from her forehead. His voice was a throaty whisper. “I want to make love to you all night.”
“That’s quite an ambition; do you have a plan?” she murmured, surprised that she was still able to speak.
“Yes. Patience.”
This time he entered her from behind. His measured strokes were pressing deep within her. His long arms encircled her. His hands explored her skin, cupped her breasts, teased her nipples. She threw her head back allowing him to shower hot kisses up and down her neck. One hand moved lower to her inflamed centre. He strummed her and she moved against him. Back and forth.
His mouth was on her neck, travelling up and down and along her shoulder. She craned her neck around and they locked in a deep kiss. Feeling the fire inside her growing quickly out of control, she covered his fingers, vibrating against her sensitive nub, with her own and pressed. She came hard, her body straining against his arms until she was heavy and still.
“Are you trying to kill me?” she pants.
“Maybe just weaken you a little.”
She heard the teasing challenge in his voice. “Weaken? We’ll see who’s weak!”
She turns and roughly threw him down on the floor.
Her hands moved over him. It was her turn to tease his skin and run her hands down his stomach. She caressed his thighs; massaging, rubbing, spreading them, before moving her hands down over the length of his cock, caressing his sac and behind, to the very base of him. She kissed his hip bone and moved her head lower licking and sucking at the tense muscles of his inner thighs. Her mouth trailed up along the length of him. Opening her mouth, she took in his length and slid her mouth up and down, her fingertips echoing her lips.
Max moaned. She sent him rolling between abandon and control. He let her stoke the fire of his passion and then allow it to recede. He tried to roll away to get out of her before he came, but she was holding his hips and, really, it was a halfhearted attempt at best.
She felt him tense, the pressure was building in him. Much to Max’s relief, she stopped.
“Thank God!” he rasped.
Swiftly, he entered her again and pressed his length in. Her inner walls gripped him tightly once more. He buried his head in her hair, and let the fire engulf him completely. She raised her hips to meet each thrust.
“Harder, harder,” she urged.
Her arms around his back were slick with sweat. She felt herself approaching the edge for a third time. Max sensed it and consigned himself to the fire. His rythm falters as he grasps her hips, leaving angry bruises on the porcelain skin, ramming into her trembling body.
Minna screams into the fur throw, coming undone again. Max follows her by the second, his hot seed filling her, seeping out of her and running slowly down her thighs. He rolled off her and gathered her to him; they held each other tightly, their legs entwined.
“Minna, that was… you were…” He rested his forehead against hers, unable to complete his sentence. His meaning was crystal clear though and Minna planted a soft kiss on his lips.
“Merry Christmas, Max.”
He kissed her to punctuate his point and she smiled bashfully at him.
“Mmm. I’ve just received the best present ever."
Then Hans-Joachim Marseille of the LuftwaffePillowtalk
warning: nsfw
Headlights of a car passing down under the street streamed into the bedroom, the bright light covering the walls in intricate patterns as it passed through the still dark street outside the windows. She groaned and rolled over, relishing the soft sheets against her skin.
It was too early to be awake and certainly too early to actually get out of bed. She reached over to one of the pillows and wraped her arms around it.
Except it wasn’t a pillow beside her, but a warm body, content and familiar.
She slept with her professor again.
Doctor Karl Brandt still appeared to be deeply asleep, the crease on his forehead calm for once, strands of dark hair dishevelled from their lovemaking. Oh, how she enjoyed to rake her fingers painted blood-red through those locks when making love to him….
Forget about it.
She needed to leave.
Sitting up, her body turned towards the door.
Just then Brandt grabs her hard by the wrist from his prone position on the bed.
He does not say anything, and the sad thing is that he does not need to. The hand on her wrist, the unforgiving grip, his lazy posture on his stomach besides her is more than telling.
‘I need to go’ she says quietly. She looks down at him and his dark eyes glint up at her like roentgen beams.
Brandt shifts onto his back and his hold does not lessen. His arm is across his chest as a result, muscles of his shoulder bunched and she looks at him again as he moves, finds him frighteningly male, her wrist impossibly delicate under his hand.
'There’s a curfew’ he grumbles; the words come slow but his tone is light.
'You could escort me’ She says, raising her chin and a large strand of her hair falls over her forehead and into her eyes. She leaves it.
Karl tucks the renegade strand almost automatically behind her ear and smirks.
'I could.’
And nobody would ever question the Führer’s personal physician.
They lapse into silence, Brandt effortlessly anchoring her to the bed. Her legs never touched the floor, they remain on the bed, her right foot still covered by the discarded sheet.
She has made no honest attempt to leave.
Her mouth feels dry; his bedroom is cold against her bare back.
‘I need to…’
His grip tightens on her wrist first. This happens first. Next he pulls her, pulls her hard and she gasps but she does not scream.
He pins her down.
Her breasts are pressed flat against the bed, he has a leg wedged between her own, the expanse of his naked chest flush with her equally naked back.Her face is pressed down into the pillow, and when she takes a shaky breath in.
All she can smell and taste is him.
She feels herself start to tremble and hates herself for it. She can hear his mouth wet behind her ear – he is breathing heavily, she can feel him, half-hard, against her bottom.
'What do you need?’ he hisses along her neck, her hair catching against his lips, and when she turns her head his mouth smears low on her cheek.
'How did you end up here in the first place?’ he asks, his tone more lascivious than angry now, more calculated and therefore more dangerous, and his nose bumps her cheekbone, his hips push fruitlessly against her ass.
Her fingers dig into the side of the mattress; his hand comes to wrap itself around hers, his fingers joining hers, and she closes her eyes, just for a moment.
‘I need you in me.’ She says that ends up in a gasp when she feels his teeth on her skin.
Karl’s mouth is open and he bites at the back of her shoulder.
'Good answer’ he whispers slowly and his tongue does not try to soothe the bite.
Moving her own hips back against him (she wants him inside her again she wants him inside) and her fingers no longer grip the mattress or the sheet but instead twist and entwine with his.
He groans – long, slow, guttural – when he finally does enter her, and it is a sound she has never heard from him before.
It makes something within her twist, something like power, he sounds so desperate, so needy, his body hot and huge over hers.
He fucks her from behind until suddenly he stops, pulls out and he rolls her over to her back. He looks her in the eye this time when he pushes in.
He does not groan this time, his eyes are too dark with lust, he does not need to.
She comes saying his name – Karl, Karl, Karl, she says, hands scrambling in his hair, across his back and its the most awful thing she has ever done.
Karl.
Walter SchellenbergHans-Joachim Marseille/OC
warning: ptsd and nsfw
image
His chest was moving rhythmically with each sucked in breath.
In and out.
In and out.
Peaceful.
Calming.
Until it was not.
When his breathing became laboured, she was beside him in a blink.
Wrapping her arms around his twitching body, pulling all his movements down to the surface of the bed.
Finally, the weight of her body around his stilled the trashing, the howling winds of a sandstorm calming for the night.
For a while it’s completely dark and eerily quiet in the bedroom, except from the thundering heartbeat against her ears as she pushes her head into his chest, with the shrieks of fallen comrades echoing through his nightmare.
Each night he came to her and each night Hans-Joachim Marseille slept through the night only if she didn’t - watching over his rest.
‘Managed to get a lot of knowledge into your pretty head, darling - while I slept? he drawled out, exaggerating his German accent.
The dark circles around his deep blue eyes never seemed to disappear, even if she calmed him for hours of fright; the frenetic pace of combat never released its grip on the pilot. His dark hair, dishevelled for once not carefully combed back like on those photographs he sent out to fangirls as he combed his long white fingers through the tresses.
Smiling, she set the book forgotten on her lap down.
She never told him she couldn’t read in a dark room, not wanting to disturb his sleep, not even with a candlelight.
And he never gave another thought about it.
And she was never the one to kiss and tell about it.
‘I’m going to graduate from med school by the time your war is over.’ Smirking, she runs a long finger on his handsome face.
‘Oh.. I would love to marry a smart woman like you.’
‘Oh, don’t you joke about that. They call me your Arabic girlfriend anyway. They say I am your kink even.’
Jochen runs a palm across her skin, soft and nourished - only a few shades darker than his.
‘Would that be wrong if you would be my type, Amina?’ His voice is serious but it’s hard to tell if he is messing around or not.
She decides to counter his flirting with banter.
‘You’re only saying that because you want me to let you sleep in my bed.’
‘Sleep…’ Jochen moved for her like a predator, drawing her back to the sheets. ‘isn’t the only thing I want in your bed.’
Amina could feel his body between her legs, hard and wanting. She was trembling as he spread her legs. His bulge was hot against her mound of Venus. The tip of his cock nudged between her sealed lower lips, a touch of heat in the chill of the room without the heat of the duvets.
She arched her back as he penetrated an inch into her warm, welcoming body. Her hands clutched the back of the bed, his dishevelled curls brushing her chin as he huffed against her breast. The heat of his forehead, usually so cool, was like a furnace against her skin.
He was trembling, almost imperceptibly.
She writhed as he penetrated her.
“Amina,” he whispered.
She accepted him, his length into her thin, trembling waist.
Her long, slender legs wrapped around his hips. With every spasm of his hips, she felt his warm breaths on her chest. The nerves in her vaginal opening twitched as he slid deeply inside her.
She relaxed backwards, letting him pummel and thrust into the back of her pussy. She could feel the hard, pulsing length of his cock deep inside her warm insides, the length rubbing against her walls. His hands gripped her legs, forcing them open to give him more room. His hips nestled on hers as he let his full weight come to rest on her waist, crushing her. She gave a high-pitched moan as he slammed his hips forward, sheathing himself inside her to the hilt.
The pain and pleasure were a ball of confusion inside of her as the waves of her long-awaited orgasm washed over her.
Finally, his dense, warm semen streamed into her welcome womb. He let out a breath, then took a deep, shuddering gasp. His shoulders relaxed.
The warm liquid streamed down her legs as he withdrew from against her. The wet feeling sent a hot current running through her trembling body.
Amina was vaguely aware of being laid on top of the bed, the silky bedsheets sliding against her back. Her shoulders relaxed, his warm mouth sealing on top of them. She felt the comforting oblivion of soft sheets and a warm body, and couldn’t resist from letting her eyes drift close as he pulled her closer to him.
All her sleepless nights, her fear-filled evenings, melted away in a swirling vortex of exhaustion and relief.
The brightly-colored flags waved and flitted from on top of the ancient, towering buildings of Egypt. The cobblestones beneath her feet were smooth and cold against her feet as she took a step backwards.
The glittering robes, dresses and masks passed her, blank, anonymous, their jeweled gazes lingering on her before they disappeared into the crowd.
A dark figure sent a shadow over the bright crowd, the edges of its hated uniform brushing the stone street, so different, so alien from the people of her homeland.
Amina backed away, one step, another step. Its blank, unfeeling eye holes bored into her, and as she tremblingly took a step back, it moved slowly forward.
She turned with a dark, terrifying tremble down her body. She began to run, run away from the dark figure. Her feet slipped on the smooth stones, and she could feel the black shape slowly begin to descend.
And there was no one around to wake her.
Another Peiper rape fantasyRoad Trip
warning: ALL OF THEM.
“Do I need a lawyer?”
She asks standing still, as he circles her like a vulture. There’s another man on the street, the driver of the black car waiting for her - a sergeant, probably. She could give it a shot and try to run of course, but she could not escape them both at once. Marlene can feel her resolve crumbling and she takes a deep breath.
“Naivete is a fresh look on you.” Came his answer.
She scowled. “The innocent have nothing to fear.”
He broke a fraction before she did, a little chuckle.
"That’s a good one,” he said.“Schwing deinen Arsch ins Auto.”
Marlene frowned. Then she did as she was told.
The door of the Mercedes slammed loud and harsh after her.
She had her hands on her thighs. She sat quite calmly in the fine leather. Sedately. There was no reason for her hands to be shaking. Shivering. Trembling at worst. No reason at all, but they were.
“Am I under arrest?”
She knew it was a distraction but she had to ask.
She does not get an answer.
Her heart missed a beat when the car turned into Avenue Foch, the main headquarters of the Gestapo stationing in France and the whole country at the command of its Brigadeführer.
“Thought we were on the same side.” Marlene tries, but she couldn’t even make herself believe that.
“Are we? On the same side?” Schellenberg furrowed his brows. “We’re about to find out.”
He stared at her for several seconds. Until she was uncomfortable. Until she was nervous. Then he looked down, licked his lips, and nodded.
She knew that she had to listen to him and do as told – if he had wanted to kill her, she’d be dead already. Nevertheless, Marlene was at his mercy, and Brigadeführer Walter Schellenberg enjoyed every second of it.
“What are you really doing in Paris, Mademoiselle?” He looked deep into her eyes, sending shivers down her spine sitting across the table. A lone lightbulb was the only source of light in the dingy room that smelled faintly of piss, his cigarette in the ashtray and despair.
“I live here. I lived here before you even set a foot in my country.”
“Why here? I heard your parents are living better off in Amiens. You wouldn’t have to scrub tables and drop your knickers for German officers there.”
She slaps him across the face, hard, and his front tooth nicks his bottom lip and it bleeds. He smiles with stained teeth and he strikes her back.
Her mouth blooms like iron too.
“Are you seeing someone?” He asked suddenly and she gave him a deadly glare.
“Is that a part of the interrogation?”
“Your potential partner might work for the communist rebels.”
“I am not seeing anyone.” Marlene grounds out.
“That is the most suprising part” Schellenberg muses. “From a French whore.”
It’s his hands on her thighs now. They’re not trembling at all.
“For every moment you don’t tell me what I want I will take something from you.” He says coming to a stand, smoothly moving around the table.
“There’s nothing you can take from me that you haven’t already taken.”
He fits two fingers between her legs and he barely touches her. They brush the front of her underwear and then push past it, the pads of his fingertips seeking out the wetness there.
“Oh I wouldn’t be so sure about that-“
Suddenly one hand grip the back of her neck, pressing her face into the desk, as he looms over her from behind.
Marlene is positively shaking as he grabs a fist full of her hair and draws it back from her face; she looks guilty, ashamed – he likes that.
“You’re beautiful, but pathetic.” He whispers, with a grin in his voice.
Something pokes at her entrance, something cold, and smooth not something that she could recognize - and it was metal, too.
“Do you know what this is?”
His voice was struggling to keep the formality, lust seeping into his throat and twisting his tongue.
“N-no… I don’t know.”
Suddenly, violently, it was inside. Marlene almost screamed - maybe she did, She couldn’t tell. Her mind went erratic with terror.
He laughs, mouth against her ear.
“How about now?”
She clenches around it, trying to understand it’s form while also trying to stop it from going deeper.
Another sigh. He sounds so irritated, but Marlene knew he was anything but. He is loving this. Every second of it.
“You don’t seem to know much of anything. I’ll give you a hint.”
The chilled metal slowly drags out of her, and she instinctively bucks backwards. Schellenberg leans back, his arm brushiing past her as he raises it up, toward the ceiling-
BANG.
Dust and fragments of the ceiling’s surface clatters to the floor. A strong, smoky smell overpowers the cigarette’s scent, and the sound rings in her ears.
It was a gun.
Before Marlene could fully process the thought it is back inside her again- hot, burning hot, from the heat of the bullet leaving the chamber.
Schellenberg drags the weapon out and pushes it back in, slowly, so fucking slowly, and she trembles with so many emotions all at once she couldn’t keep track. He keeps it moving, letting her feel that weight of it inside, the power behind it, the lethality.
“How about now?”
She could tell he has a smirk on his face, as if he wasn’t pushing a deadly weapon inside her.
He leans in close, one hand on the back of her neck, the other cupping her backside.
“We don’t have to do this, you know,” he says. “All you have to do is tell me, and I can spare you from the pain. From the humiliation. It won’t offend me in the slightest. All you have to do is tell me where the communist scum are…”
Don’t tell them. No matter what.
Marlene shut her eyes and the word escapes her lips before she can swallow it down.
“No.”
And for one blissful second, there is silence.
It doesn’t last.
“Fine, then. Have it your way.”
Her throat is raw from screaming when he is done and the same sergeant who took her from home enters the room reporting for his superior officer.
“We arrested all of them at the given location, Brigadeführer. None escaped.”
Her eyes fly open and Marlene stares at the man above her straightening his godforsaken uniform.
“Good. Prepare for the trials then.”
“Jawohl Brigadeführer.”
No. It’s impossible.
“I don’t understand,” Marlene whimpers when they’re alone again . “How did you…?”
“One of your friends told us days ago,” Schellenberg says as if discussing the weather. “My crew were very persuasive. It didn’t take her long to talk.”
He looks down at her, his eyes pools of twirling darkness.
“I suppose you’re wondering why I bothered with you if I already knew?”
She nods breathlessly and he kneels down next to her.
“Because I know your type. Your pride, your loyalty…they’re immovable. I knew you wouldn’t tell me anything, no matter what I did. So, I might as well do whatever I want.”
Marlene could feel the tears forming behind her eyes. She wanted to vomit.
“I admire that. You’re like me.” Schellenberg continues petting her har like one does a dog who did the trick right .
“I am nothing like you,” she sneers back.
He only smirks in response and rises to his feet and gestures to what’s left of her underwear on the floor.
“You might want to clean yourself up,” he says. “Our trip for today is over. I will pick you up tomorrow. Same time.”
And the door closes behind him, leaving her sobbing and shaking on the floor.
This one is a cuck fantasy almost on par with those by neets.me's own Cornelius Shrewsbury Bartholomew IIIwarning: non con!
take a break, have a snack
Sasha was running for her life through the muddy fields of the dense forest, attempting to evade the sniper on her tail. She had been broken away from her reconnaissance team scouting on a German Panzer unit near Kharkiv, of all things. From her vantage point, the young woman could see the convoy of enemy vehicles that was attempting to negotiate the rough terrain to intercept her.
As she made her way through the trees the convoy had been her most pressing concern, right up until she felt herself being pelted with the bark of trees. A bullet had lodged itself into the unfortunate tree at about the height of her knee, missing her with only a few centimetres. From the direction of the hit she knew it could not have been fired from the convoy; she was flanked by a sharpshooter.
He was fast and a good shot and it seemed that he was aiming to wound her rather than kill her. Some consolation at least, although Sasha certainly didn’t wanted to find out what he would do to her if he caught her.
Rounding the corner to find a thicker patch of trees in the distance would provide better cover, if she could get to them. She ran for it, using the small rocks for cover as best as she could, reaching the trees safely and continued running for several minutes before sinking to her knees to rest.
After catching her breath, Sasha quietly go to her fet, scanning the trees ahead for the best route out of the forest. Her heart skipped a beat as her eyes met those of her pursuer; blue-grey eyes fixated on her, crouching as he held his scope no more than a few meters away from her.
She panicked and ran, attempting to get a head start before he could even get up. Too slow, too slow, too slow! Why do all these bloody Germans have these impossibly long legs? Her brain chanted as she stumbled on the uneven ground. Her sniper seemed to have decided that he was too close to use his gun in such a dense forest. Or maybe he was just enjoying the chase. Either way, at least she wasn’t getting shot at - for now.
Sasha didn’t spare a moment to glance black, but she knew he was close; she could hear his breathing as he ran behind her. He laughed as he saw her stumble, but still didn’t catched her; he was playing with her, enjoying the hunt.
Bastard.
He said something to her as he easily matched her pace - her German wasn’t too good, but she was pretty sure that what he said wasn’t an invitation for tea. Her face burned in rage as she heard him something about enjoying the view and almost not wanting to catch her.
Almost.
She reached the top of the small hill within the woods and cried out in shock as she realized that the ground dropped out from under her feet and she didn’t have any time hope stopping in time. She fell through the air and landed on the forest floor with a thud. Winded, he was on her in a second, flipping her onto her back.
Caught.
Shit.
Jochen was glowing with the thrill of the chase, but he kept his expression brutal. The woman was still trying to get away, aiming a kick at his shin while attempting to punch him in the face. She was impressive; she connected both of her strikes before he was able to evade. Not a problem; she was fast but she couldn’t hit as hard as his bones were used to. He grabbed her wrists and held her, growling in her ear for her to lie still. She either didn’t understand him or ignored him. It didn’t matter either way, he still needed her to stop. He slapped her hard, and then backhanded her ricocheting head as well, but she only redoubled her efforts to escape his grasp. She was screaming what he only could assume were insults as she continued to kick.
‘Get off me, you murdering bastard!’ Sasha screamed as she tried to free herself from his grip. Her pretty face had turned an angry red from the force of the blow he had inflicted on her, but she seemed determined not to let him see that he had hurt her.
Angered by her refusal to cooperate, Jochen shouted shut up at her in German. She stopped screaming, but wrestled her arms free and rolled on top of him so that she could put her weight behind her fist as she smacked it into his elegant jaw.
Jochen had enough now. He could have shot the girl easily, but she was needed alive. He dragged himself back on top of her, and decided to threaten her in a different way. Yanking her legs apart, he moved that his groin was digging into hers, then dragged her hands above her head as he held her down. She groaned as he held her face level with his, and shouted at her to shut up again. She obeyed this time.
Sasha was stuck. The threat was unmistakable, regardless of which language they were speaking. She could lie still or he would play dirty. He was slowly grinding his hips into hers as she groaned in disgust when a treacherous heat started to build inside her body. She writhed against him, trying to break free of his hold before her body could betray her any further.
It didn’t work.
He let go of her face and slid his palm over her breasts and squeezed as they carried on struggling, until eventually Jochen had the girl lying still on the ground. She was brave, but she did not wanted to be raped. He knew that she understood at least some of his language, so he decided to talk dirty to her until he got a reaction.
Sasha groaned softly as the shooter continued his assault on her, grinding into her while holding her down, whispering into her ear. He was saying that he was going to fuck her and that he was looking forward to hear her scream as he came inside her. He hissed that she was going to blow him until he shot his load on her pretty little face. She tried to hold back a moan of fear as Jochen slid his hand back to hold her head still, and then bent down and kissed her. She felt her body go rigid against him as he continued his assault on her mouth.
His warm lips felt scorching against her freezing skin laying on the frozen ground, causing a bolt of electricity to burst through her veins. The German hunted for a way inside her mouth, as Sasha struggled to drag air into her protesting lungs and she suddenly found herself swathed in his scent. The analytical part of her brain noticed the faint traces of nicotine, gun oil and sweat before she felt him begin to nibble, His tongue bathed her chapped lips as the heat of his mouth was trickling into her causing Sasha to shudder involuntarily as he leaned into her, deepening the kiss.
Bleep. The man finally came up for air and cursed a fine long line as he grabbed his radio and silenced the sound before talking into it too rapidly for her to comprehend. Following this, he was up and dragging her to her feet in a matter of moments. Sasha felt dazed and fairly disgusted with herself for showing a reaction to her attacker. She scowled at him as he looked down at her. He had tied her wrists behind her back, and was about to lead her off who knows where. He noticed the scowl and grabbed her by the chin.
The sniper held Sasha’s gaze with his as he pulled her against him. With her arms behind her back, she had no way of holding herself away from him. As her body slid against his again, a confusing wave of primitive emotions rushed through her; fear and anger and a small amount of arousal that scared her more than any threat of physical pain. He started to talk and the wave of emotion became a storm, threatening to overwhelm her.
‘You’re very lucky that my commanding officer wants to speak with you. ‘ He growled softly. ‘Otherwise I would have had so much fun with you, little Russian.’ Sasha didn’t understand everything he was saying, but she definitely got the gist. ‘I suggest you tell him what he wants to know. Otherwise, you’re going to suffer. He has people who are trained to cause pain without damaging your little body, so they can make you scream for days. You’re a tough cookie - I admit that, but not that tough to withstand that.’
This wasn’t Sasha’s first mission and her training had taught her better than to show fear in a situation like this. So when the sniper’s words dragged a whimper out of her chilled and tired body, she told herself she had done on purpose so that he might underestimate her in the future.
It wasn’t that much of his words that scared her, but the burning arousal that was apparent in his eyes, his voice, his body. He wanted to hurt her, he wanted to hear her scream for him. Her eyes hardened in defiance;they could do whatever they wanted to her, she wasn’t going to beg. The German soldier smiled down at her nastily, as if he knew exactly how to wipe that look off her face, He inched his face downwards, allowing his mouth to caress hers once again. Electricity and warmth started to flow through her again as she tried to twist her face away but his grip was like iron. Deepening the kiss, he continued his torture until Sasha coudln’t hold back a tiny moan.
With the look of defiance erased from her face, the shooter released her from his grip, grabbing her arm, shoving her ahead of him. He had his handgun in his hands, a gentle reminder that trying to make a run for it would be a bad idea. It took only a few minutes to reach the convoy that was on her trail, and he was disappointed to be parted from his prize.
Sasha was relieved to find that he was being taken away from the sniper and would be brought for an audience with the man in charge inside an adandoned farm building, who thankfully spoke Russian. She needed to find a way back to her unit as soon as possible. She wasn’t exactly sure how she was going to manage that, until she was dragged in front of a man who sported a funny little moustache just like their precious Führer.
‘What were you doing in this area?’ the man with the moustache asked and Sasha feigned stupidity, and replied she was sightseeing.
The man snorted, then warned her that she would suffer greatly if she didn’t cooperate. To that, Sasha smiled sweetly and replied that she looked forward to it. He also smiled back at her by that, and motioned for the guards who marched her in to pick her up like a ragdoll. Rough hands tied her arms to a beam in the ceiling above her head, toes only just brushing the floor.
‘I will ask you one more time.’ The man in charge said. ‘What were you lurking about here?’
Sasha remained silent. The commander snorted again, then motioned to someone standing in the shadows to the side.
‘I believe you have already met our Jochen?’ he asked, and another German came into the view. That bloody one from the woods.
She didn’t recognized the name for a moment; it had not been in the mission files. But as Sasha’s brain sifted through the hours of intel that their command had provided to them, it suddenly made a connection. Jochen was a pet name, short for Joachim. And that name she definitely recognized; one of the most ruthless young panzer commanders of the Waffen SS. That makes the other man either Josef Dietrich or Kurt Meyer.
She was thoroughly fucked.
The man in charge motioned to Jochen, and he stepped in front of Sasha, with a rather mean looking knife in his hands. He was tall, she realized as his passive blue eyes met hers. The platform that she’d been made to stand on had raised her at least twenty centimetres, but she was still not higher than him. He stared into her eyes, smilling of sweetly-sickly cruel, as he let the knife play across her cheek, gauging her reaction.
‘Our dear Hauptsturmführer here would love to play with a little lost Russian kitten like you.’ The man in charge continued, and Sasha wished that she could have suspected him of bluffing. ‘I strongly suggest that you cooperate with me, so that you can leave here… with your body intact.’
There’s a loud snicker coming from the men around her, and Haupsturmführer Joachim Peiper turned to his commander, speaking softly in a dialect she couldn’t understand. The other man laughed and turned back to their captive.
‘He wants me to stop asking you to cooperate. He will be very disappointed to not have the opportunity to hear you scream for him.’
‘Would hate to disappoint him.’ Sasha replied, intended to sound sarcastic.
To her own disgust, her voice was shaking. and her retort came out as more of a plea than an insult as Jochen smiled at that, stroking his free hand into the hair at the nape of her neck so that he can hold her still. He slid his mouth to her ear and licked over her earlobe, then gently started to suck until the Russian girl gasped in response.
‘Oh God.’ Sasha thought, trying to turn her head away, but his hand in her hair kept her still. He came up for air and took a small step backwards, looking over her slowly, like a slowly blinking predator.
He was dirty, but then so was she.
They had gotten spattered in mud during their fight earlier, and his short dark blond hair was still crusted and matted down against his head, His dark blue eyes glinted with a sadistic gleam as he seemed to consider his next course of action, and Sasha resigned herself to the fact that this was going to be a very long night.
If she was going to stand any chance of getting out of this and completing her objective, she was going to have to let them think that they had the upper hand.
She knew that the normal reaction in these circumstances would be fear, and Sasha was definitely afraid. But there was something about this man that her body has reacting to, and she was more afraid of that than the pain she was promised into.
Peiper stepped back towards her and slid his mouth against her ear again.
‘Are you getting wet for me?’ he whispered, voice going husky. It took the Russian captive a couple of moments to decipher the meaning of the unfamiliar language. She blushed as she realized what he was saying and tried to turn her her head away, but Jochen slid his knife up to rest against her cheek, pressing gently until she moved her head back against his. He repeated his question, waiting for an answer.
‘Nein!’ Sasha replied, hoping that she wasn’t going to have to speak more German. Her comprehension of the language wasn’t very good, but her pronuncation was even worse.
‘Nein?’ Jochen repeated. He didn’t seemed convinced. He slid his hand from the small of her back, over the curve of her arse and between her legs. Sasha yelped and tried to pull herself away from the probing hand, but only managed to trust herself against his body. He laughed at that, as she whimpered in despair while he continued to probe between her legs for a couple of moments, then decided that he couldn’t feel enough ti decide if she was indeed wet or not.
Sasha struggled pointlessly against her bonds as he striped her off her clothes until she was entirely naked, using his knife to cut through the fabric. Staring ahead, she tried to block out the shame of being bare in front of these people. These animals.
Jochen put his knife away and thouroughly looked her over. Her breasts were full, with delicate pink nipples, rapidly hardening under the chill of the room. Her legs and stomach were taut and toned, but she still managed to have full hips and a round arse. He moved behind her, sliding his left arm around her waist and his right to the front of her thigh.
‘Are you sure you aren’t wet?’ He asked softly, stroking his hand to the inside of her thigh. He smiled as the girl’s face darkened with anger at his touch, wriggling to get him off of her. ‘Mmm? Do you want me to touch you?’
Sasha repeated her answer from earlier, but it sounded even more weaker than before. He laughed again, stroked a little higher, rubbing the line where her thighs met her nether regions, then even higher. He slid one finger inside her very gently, eliciting a humiliating cry from the captive.
There was no way that she could deny the fact that she was utterly wet and ready for him. The German moaned softly and growled something that she couldn’t quite understand, something guttural and raw. Her body reacted regardless of the fact that she didn’t understand; he sounded powerful and masculine and entirely erotic. She felt her muscles tighten around his finger as she moaned wantonly and Sasha wanted to die right there; he was supposed to be raping her and it seemed like her body wanted him inside her more than it wanted air in her lungs.
‘Shhh’ He whispered softly, sliding his finger out of her, gentle as before. He moved so that he was facing her again, and held her jaw still.’’I’ll be inside you soon, and I’ll fuck you as hard as you need.’
He slid his finger glistening with her moisture to rest on her lips and Sasha did as he wanted; sucking his finger clean. Without further thinking, she spat the saliva collected inside her mouth straight into his annoyingly smug face.
‘You bastard’ She screamed. ‘Let me down so I can kill you!’
‘No.’ He replied simply, wiping the spit of his cheek, eyes darkening with anger as he grabbed her by the throat. ‘And no more fucking foreplay for you, Schatzie.’
He balled his right hand into a fist and punched her in the left cheek, and he didn’t pull his punches. Sasha’s head lurched to the side and stayed there for several moments, stunned. She slowly came back to her senses and realised blood was flowing freely from her nose and mouth. The second blow was harder, and she cried out in agony as he grabbed her by the hair, pulling her bloodsoaked head back up to face him.
‘Stop it, Jochen. If you go on like that, she’ll be dead in ten minutes.’ The commander said nonchalantly. 'There are better ways to hurt a woman.’
Peiper smiled nastily at that and Sasha shivered by the look. Her face was aching and she knew that whatever he had in store for her next couldn’t be possibly good.
He slid his hand up on of her arms, searching for a moment. He found what he was looking for, then pressed gently, then harder. She shrieked in pain as he dug his fingers into a pressure point on her arm supporting her weight; this was even worse than the pain on her cheeks.
Tears were running down her face, mixing with the blood drying on the pale skin. He wasn’t going to stop until she begged him to. He didn’t have to wait long.
'Stop it.’ She whimpered. 'Please, stop!’
The German let go, then rubbed the bruised skin tenderly for a moment.
’Do you have any idea how many different point there are like that on your body?’ He asked. ’I can keep you screaming for days and all you’ll end up is bruises. And then I can do it all again. And again and again. Do you want that?’
It wasn’t the worst experience Sasha had before, but she didn’t needed to let him know that. She shuddered before replying.
’No.’
’Do you want to tell him what he wants to know?’ Joachim asked, sliding his hand to the same point on her other arm. He pressed gently, and Sasha started to feel ill.
’No.’ She replied again, bracing herself for the nausating pain.
She wasn’t sure how much time passed before he stopped again, but she was covered in bruises and her throat was aching from screaming. The man moved towards her again, sliding his mouth to her ear.
’Ready to talk yet, dorogaya?’ He breathed, borrowing from Russian, butchering her language in his hateful mouth.
’Is that the best you’ve got, Bubi?’ she spat, scorn showing clearly through the pain on her face. ’I’ve got better beatings from my Babushka and she only had one hand!’
’Okay.’ Jochen grinned at the comment, her stubborness only seemed to entertain him. ’Let’s do something a little different.’
He slid his jacket off, revealing another, cleaner one underneath, which he also took off. What remained on his upper body was a tight undershirt, leaving little to the imagination. Cupping his hands over her jaw, he lifted her face to kiss her. Sasha jerked her head away from his, trying to concentrate on breathing in and out. He only smiled.
’You want to fight me again?’ He tangled his fingers into her hair, pulling her head back viciously, exposing her throat. ’Do you want more pain? I wonder how long you’ll last.’
He licked over her neck and shoulder, then started to bite and suck, his other hand travelling to her breasts, squeezing hard.
Sasha moaned, this time in pain. She was almost relieved that her body wasn’t betraying her, until she felt his hand travel down towards her middle.
The first time Jochen did this to her, he has been incredibly gentle. He made it up for it this time. He pushed two fingers inside her hard, keeping up the pressure until they were fully inside her and Sasha wasn’t sure which hurt the most; him pushing into her or pulling out. She closed her eyes tightly, whimpering, until the whimper turned into a scream when he added another finger.
’You’re so beautiful when you scream.’ He whispered into her hair, circling his fingers inside her slowly, going as deep as he could. ’Scream for me, suka.’
She could only moan softly, writhing against him in an attempt to reduce the pressure he was using, but it didn’t work.
Joachim Peiper was burning with desire while he watched the captive whimper and moan for him. He increased the pressure he was using on her again, and was rewarded with a scream of agony that made his dick throb. He leaned down to catch a nipple in his teeth, adding again to the pressure until she was hysterical, then let go. Tears were streaming down her face and he licked them off hungrily.
He needed to be inside her before her body started to lubricate itself in self defense.
Sasha sighed in relief as the German pulled his fingers out of her and left her alone for a moment. Her head lolled back as she closed her eyes, trying to rest for a minute. She tried to tell herself that the metallic sound she just heard wasn’t him unzipping his pants and coming towards her…
He slid his cheek against hers and murmured the words ’Ya tebya trakhnu’ into her ear, but it took her a few moments to be able to understand what he just said in her language as her overloaded brain deciphered his words, she felt her gut spasm in horror. I am going to fuck you.
’Look at me’ Peiper growled, his fist grabbing her hair again and Sasha did was being told.
He lifted her up slightly as he positioned himself at her opening, then slowly pushed into her, his blue eyes burning into hers.
She had promised herself that he wouldn’t have the satisfaction of hearing her scream, but the pain in her body combined with the indignity of the situation just proved to be too much. As he moved inside her, he grunted something she couldn’t understand, but didn’t cared anymore. Right now, the only thing she could focus on was the pain richoceting through her tortured body.
Hearing the Russian girl cry as he moved inside her, Jochen shuddered in satisfaction. She was incredibly tight, and he had to slow down his movements until they were measured and deliberate to stop himself from coming too soon. She moaned softly in gratitude and he smiled, slid his fingers to her abused nipples and squeezed.
He didn’t wanted her to think he was going soft on her.
Feeling that he couldn’t delay things any further, he slid his mouth to the girl’s ear and started to talk in Russian to make sure that she understood.
’I’m going to come, dorogaya.’ His accent was strong and masculine, and made her almost shudder with desire regardless of the pain in her body. ’I’m going to leave everything I’ve got buried deep inside you, and you’re going to scream for me.’
Sasha scowled at him, every feature on her face expressing loathing and hatred.
No.
She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her scream yet again.
She gritted her teeth against the pain that she knew was coming as he increased the speed of his thrusting hips.
Jochen felt the girl tensing against him and knew that she was going to do everything in her power to stop herself from screaming. Sure, he could easily hit another pressure point and get her to scream that way, but he didn’t wanted to.
He wanted a heartfelt scream of pain and despair and he was going to get it.
’Get used to this, moya malishka.’ He whispered. ’ It’s the only thing you’re going to have from now on. You’re never going to see your family again. You’re mine and I’m going to fuck you until you pass out every single day for the rest of your life. Until you’re raw and bleeding and you can’t even beg anymore.’
His words hit home. Sasha moaned wretchedly and struggled against her tormentor in one last futile act of defiance that caused her aching arms burn with pain. Jochen grabbed her arse and growled, the sight of her writhing against him finally sending him over the edge. He buried himself deep inside the girl as he felt his semen spurt inside her, and she gave him the scream he wanted, then collapsed against him, sobbing into his chest. Her vagina was raw and bleeding, and the hot, salty wetness of the German’s sperm flooding her walls like acid burning her insides.
It took Hauptsturmführer Joachim Peiper several moments to recover before he trusted his legs to keep him upright. He pulled out of his captive slowly and sorted out his clothes. She was hanging limp from her bindings, not even bothering to hold herself up on her toes anymore, Her head flopped forwards but what he could see of her face was caked in blood and salt from her tears. Her body was almost entirely covered by bruises and her left nipples had darkened with blood where he bit into it. She had scratches and nail marks where he had held ont o her hips and arse, and his semen was slowly oozing down her legs, tinged pink from flood where he fucked her raw.
She was beautiful.
She was his.
This one stars Joseph Goebbels jflHot drinks
warning: drugs, non con!
His fingers felt numb.
Fucking snow, Haupsturmführer Joachim Peiper thought angrily. It wasn’t his fault it was so fucking cold in the Berghof, it made him feel like every bone in his body was rattling.
And the wind, that thing never fucking stopped blowing.
The pads of his fingertips welcomed the warmth of his lighter, the cigarette limp between his lips.
“Oida, Peiper, what are you doing out here?”
The annoying voice of Reichsführer Himmler’s secretary reached his ears, as the boy slapped him on the shoulders, making him drop the cigarette between his teeth.
“Oh sorry, brudi. Didn’t see the light, can’t see shit when these things go foggy.” Rudolf Brandt took off his ridiculous round glasses and began furiously rub them with an equally ridiculous handkerchief.
Jochen heard himself suck in breath. Offending Rudi - who could so easily manipulate the Reichsführer - with telling him to go fuck himself wasn’t on his agenda, at least not today and not even as favourite adjutant of the moment.
“Yeah, I was just going down to the cantin, do you wanna go grab a drink or something?” The secretary leans in close, too close to whisper in his ear. “You can’t smoke here, brudi. The Führer hates the smell.”
Shit.
Oh fuck.
Stepping on the already dying cigarette butt laying in the snow, Jochen curses inside his head, looking up thankfully at his friend.
How could he forgot about that?
The delicious aroma of cloves and oranges in his nostrils, and the mulled wine in his belly fills him with warmth as Jochen has a hot drink in his hands
Then he has another.
It starts a warm feeling inside his chest tingling to the tip of his fingertips.
He decides he likes it.
And he likes the cacophonic warmness of the cantin, all shared laughs and warmth and fraternity. Rudi is by his side the whole time, whispering the names of officers into his ear he haven’t met yet.
And he was grateful for it.
Jochen sipped at his second whiskey, trying to take it a little slower, but as he re-ran the events of the day through his head he discovered his cup empty before he expected it to be. Glaring at the bottom of the cup for being in this state he noticed something there. He couldn’t be sure but it looked like some kind of powder or debris was in his cup. Feeling a little grossed out that he had drank from a dirty cup he threw it to the side.
He was suddenly starting to feel a little dizzy and light headed.
“Maybe we should go and call it a day?” His friend asks by his side, leaving his hand on his forearm a little too long.
Jochen feels himself nodding as he is lead outside by Rudi and the coldness hits his face again.
Standing up the dizziness got far worse and he stumbles a few feet before face planting the wall. Panic settles in his cornered mind.
This wasn’t normal, something was wrong.
“Come on, Jochen, you’ll be fine. Just a quick-“ Rudi, his friend says behind him, cheerfully.
“No. No, I don’t feel well. I don’t… I shouldn’t have had the whiskey.”
No, I really shouldn’t have, Jochen thinks and his mind blanks.
He hears muffled noises, the chink of a belt buckle. He flicks away and slides up the balustrade towards the light.
“No. Please. Rudi, I want to go home.” His slurred voice says, as Rudi ghosts into view.
“Sure. I’ll get you home. Soon as you’ve been good to me, you arrogant little swine.”
A hand is tugging at his waist band; he’s already stripped of his jacket, which lies at their feet like a discarded pet.
Jochen steps away, and staggers and there’s cold snow on his grasping fingers as he falls. Rudi gathers him up again, laughing over his mumbled protests.
“Come on, brudi - you know you owe me one.”
“Nooooooo.” It’s more of a whisper than a shouted protest and Jochen hates himself for it.
The trousers come down, and Rudi drops the other man to the filthy floor with a little push. He steps back, and smirks, fumbling with his belt. His breathing is heavy.
Jochen knew he was far to uncoordinated to hit the guy, or to even move away from him at that point.
He feels something by his trembling lips - what he didn’t know, but he couldn’t seem to stop it from happening.
“If you bite me, I’ll kick all your fucking teeth out, understood?”
Without warning he was pushed against the stone and the guy’s mouth was on his roughly. He felt hands moving all over his body and tried to stop them, but he was completely uncoordinated.
"Get the fuck off of me.” Was all he could manage in the short stoppage.
“Oh come on brudi, it’ll be fun. Just the two of us.”
Jochen made a fist full of snow and started swinging, the third attempt connected.
“You son of a bitch!”
Squinting to try to see he starts moving in what he thought was the way out. His friend grabbed his arm and swung him back around before punching him square on the jaw.
He felt his teeth slam together and immediately tasted blood.
He was once again shoved against the railing and this time he started kicking up his legs and aiming with his knee. He connected the second time and the guy doubled over in pain. He again started for what he thought was the escape and found that he was right.
The cold air felt good but he knew that it was doing nothing to rid the drugs out of his system. The nausea hit suddenly and almost without warning he threw up on the porch in front of him. This also did nothing to ease any of the haze. He had never felt this horrible in his life and honestly had no idea what he was going to do.
Then he heard his name. Someone was saying his name, but he couldn’t make out a face and the voice sounded so far away but it was getting closer. He was close to blacking out and he knew it and strongly suspected he was dreaming the voice.
But then a hand was on his shoulder, shaking it and the voice was very close. The hand became an arm around his back lifting him and he was again being led somewhere.
He had the awful fear for a moment that his potential rapist was back for another try, but this voice was different. He knew he recognized it, but it was full of concern, which seemed foreign for this particular voice.
He felt himself being lowered into what he assumed was a duvet.
It smelled familiar and warm, and he was suddenly glad that of all of his senses, at least he still had smell.
He leaned his head against the plush pillows and closed his eyes. He could be in the bed of an axe murderer for all he knew, but he couldn’t make himself do anything about it, so he gave in to the blackness.
Jochen could still smell fresh duvets when he started waking up. After a few seconds he realized he was lying down now, and not moving. He listened for sounds giving him any clues as to his whereabouts and could hear water running in a sink and someone’s feet as they moved about.
The feet came closer and he felt a cold damp cloth being laid on his forehead. He groaned a little in appreciation because it felt nice.
“Are you coming to your senses?”
He had determined he was on a couch, but whose couch he still wasn’t sure. His body hurt like hell, he just hoped nothing was broken.
“Peiper?”
And that voice again, but this time, he knew exactly who it was: Max Wünsche.
Sincere gratefulness was mixed with fear.
He was definitely getting fired; the blond adjutant of the Führer - the view occassions Jochen saw him appeared to be friendly, he was certainly not his friend.
Cracking open one eye he peered out to see Wünsche leaning over him, looking actually quite concerned. This was unexpected, he thought he would see mockery or disgust.
His mouth felt like sawdust and he could still taste some blood from the punch to the jaw he had taken, so he wasn’t sure he could talk yet, but gave it a go anyway.
“Where?” It came out as a crackly whisper and he felt Wünsche get up and heard water running again.
This time he came back with a glass of water, which he placed at Jochen’s lips so he could drink. The coolness of the water soothed his throat and made him a bit more alert.
“Um, thank you.”
He braced himself for the lecture, but received only a calm “you’re welcome” in return.
Opening his eyes fully he glanced about and realized he was in Max’s room.
First and foremost, he felt as though he needed to explain.
“I wasn’t drunk.”
“I know; I’ve seen enough drunkards before." Max continued, "I suspect you were spiked. What happened in the first place?”
“I was invited and Rudi is… my friend…” Jochen started, trying to come up with an explanation himself.
“He wasn’t much of a friend to you last night.” Wünsche cut in, voice ambiguous. The statement was spoken in a much softer tone than the words implied. “You would have freeze to death laying there ‘till the morning.”
Jochen was starting to realize how much Wünsche had done for him.
“Thank you. I am grateful.”
Max just nodded like it was nothing.
“Are you going to report that?” Jochen hated how weak his voice sounded like.
“Are you?” Wünsche asked back, his eyes two deep pools of blue boring into his.
Just the thought of that made Peiper tremble with fear and repulsion.
“N-no. I won’t report that.”
“Then I don’t see the point of doing it either.” Wünsche shrugged his broad shoulders. “You have poor taste in friends.”
Jochen couldn’t help but agree with that.
She scrunched up her shoulders against the wind, rushing toward the welcoming doors of the bookstore. It was a chilly winter night in Berln, and she was looking forward to the blanketing warmth of the fireplace combined with the smell of books. The aroma hits her as she pushed through the doors, the sweet smell of newly printed pages.
It was late, so there weren’t many people there, except people like her.
Night-owls. Avid readers. Sometimes even called freaks.
Her fingers brushed over the spines of the books arranged in the shelf, picking a certain one out.
“Gone with the Wind, Schatzie? Not for you.”
She turned around to meet an intense pair of dark eyes. A raven-haired man with a short stature, with a deformed right foot - everyone knew who Joseph Göbbels was, yet she just wished she wasn’t one of them now.
She gave him a smile out of habit, and because he had addressed the book she was holding, and decided to reply in a neutral manner.
“I won’t judge until I’ve read it.”
He approched her quietly, humming as a response and reached over her head, pulling out a book from the upper shelf. The close proximity of his body to hers was overwhelming when he reached over for the book.
It was a short moment but nonetheless, she felt trapped.
“A Classic,” he said, taking a look at the cover and its name.
His eyes shifted from the book cover to her eyes. She felt strangely intimidated by his stare; intense, intelligent burning pools of black.
“The Metamorphosis?” She was more likely reading out the title out loud than adressing a question.
The brown beetle covered novel was laying dead and lifeless on his palm.
“The female population had long monopolized sales of fiction, corrupting the novel from its noble roots in romance—in the greater historical sense, as a worldly or spiritual quest—into love.”
“So you want to educate others on what is worthy of read or do you derive pleasure from the idea of being ideologically superior to others?
The words were out before she could bite on her tongue. To her luck, he decided to brush it off with a laugh.
“Oh, I don’t want to exclude women, believe me - my offer to you about working for me still stands. But I would rather have them engage in topics more suited for them.”
She could not help but let a sigh escape her lips. They went over this conversation a hundred times already - she could not change the views of the Gauleiter of Berlin and she long ago gave up trying.
The image of a quiet, serene aryan woman whose broken spirit everywhere is mistaken for righteous calm.
“So, do you have any more book recommendations for me?”
His expression is collected, other than the determined tilt of his brows. It’s the ever-so-slight tension to his shoulders that gives him away though. He will not have this any other way.
“The Kafka.” He pushes the book into her numb hands. ‘I’d like to buy that book for you. As an early Christmas present.”
Quiet thrill pulses through her, sudden and dizzying.
“Early present?” She sputters like a tea kettle.
“Of course.” He rolls his lips together, trying to smother a sudden and distinctly smug grin. “We’re just beginning.”
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