Chapter 8
Conquest
The consensus of the three was to punish Simone for her behavior in masturbating in their presence. Simone raised herself upon one elbow to look at the three, who by now had gotten whips from somewhere. Jasmine kicked Simone sharply in the ribs, so that Simone fell backward against the wall. "Swine! Slut." the Aryan-featured woman shouted down at her. Another kick was aimed at Simone's groin, and she rolled as the whip came down, striking her painfully through her clothes. Simone could feel angry welts growing beneath the pressure of her clothing.
Simone tried to gain her knees, but a well-aimed kick from the woman forced her back to the ground. She crossed her arms over her tits, but the barrage of kicks and blows continued. The two men were standing aside, watching the whipping like some sort of perverse entertainment. There was no escape for Simone, who was completely at the woman's mercy if the Hauptmann did not speak. Blows fell upon Simone from every direction, kicks and lashes touched every centimeter of Simone's body. There was no way to turn to mitigate the torture, certainly no way to escape.
Simone was suffering at first from the pain and fright in this totally new situation. Sweat was flooding from her pores and mixing bitingly with the blood from the open welts beneath her little maid's dress. But as before, Simone soon got over the fright and acclimated herself to the pain, and in that process found the agony was not as insufferable as it had been in the beginning. In a perverse way, just as the two men seemed to enjoy seeing Simone beaten, Simone herself was getting a kind of pleasure from the sting of the whip. Strange as it seemed, the pattern of acquiescence which Simone had noticed during former whippings occurred again: The more the blows hurt, the more excited Simone seemed to become. Kicks from the high-heels of the stately Aryan woman tore through Simone's black dress. Since the very first kick had landed in her crotch, it felt as though Simone would be paralyzed. But the kick had stimulated sensitive nerve endings. Then Jasmine seemed to get tired of kicking and instead placed her high heeled leg firmly on Simone's chest in a classical gesture of conquest.
It was humiliating. Simone had been as well educated as this Jasmine. Simone came from a family of good repute and comfortable living standards. And now Simone was being not only made to act out the servile role of a maid to her, but made to suffer the subjugation and physical abuse of this woman. A man is a natural master, thought Simone. But another woman was intolerable.
Jasmine was pressing Simone down hard onto the carpeted floor. Simone was made to remember by verbal threats that she was only a prisoner, and the spike of the heel was justly symbolic of Simone's status compared with the proper Nordic majesty of the blonde Jasmine.
Jasmine held Simone down for some time with the full weight of her foot on Simone's chest, on the breastbone between Simone's encased orbs. With her whip, Jasmine continued to plant ringing lashes on Simone. Most humiliating of all, Simone was getting erotic pleasure from the blows.
For the first time since her arrest, Simone had taken a short respite to think about her own reaction to her treatment. It was easy to pass the entire episode off as a simple nightmare. But when she thought about it now, Simone had to realize that it did arouse her. Even at the furthest limits of her endurance, Simone could not imagine any circumstance under which she was not erotically stimulated. And here she was, lying supine under a vindictive woman who was perpetrating one of the most ignominious acts upon her that one human can perpetrate on another. And Simone was loving it. Becoming aroused and excited by Jasmine: Unaccountably, but undeniably. There had been a strange transformation since her first encounter with Lehrterstrasse. There was a certain aspect to servility-no, that was not it-surrender, which made a woman feel whole and satisfied.
A perverse thrill went through Simone's mind when she thought of the blonde's fringed cunt just above her own supine body. Simone wanted to look at Jasmine's pussylips. She wanted to look between her torturer's legs.
Jasmine's thighs seemed enormously powerful, and her tits were now huge watermelons which jounced erotically each time Jasmine dropped her whip-arm. To be fully in surrender, completely abdicating one's own responsibility for behavior- that was what made her present situation so bearable, Simone decided. Jasmine, another woman, ordinarily on the same plane with Simone, was therefore the ultimate in Simone's self-abnegation. And Jasmine's beating of her, was exciting her.
Simone longed to see Jasmine's cunt again. Her hair, by now sweaty and jism-matted on her cunt. Simone wanted to see the gaping slit as Jasmine's legs moved in rhythm with her arm. Despite the pleasure of the shoe heel digging painfully into Simone's ribs, Simone let her gaze travel up the length of statuesque calf along the inside of the thigh, all the way to the point where the thighs joined in the hairy shadows of Jasmine's cunt.
Jasmine's legs seemed to be unnaturally far apart, and the blonde bush could be seen now as extending all the way from high up on her abdomen to her hidden asshole. Painfully, Simone moved her shoulders to get a better view of that erotic genitalia, and as Jasmine whipped her, Simone watched the cuntal crown of pubic hair sway. Simone watched the coral gash of Jasmine's pussy open and close with each descending blow, and she saw that the lips were glistening inside with love-juice.
After the fucking Jasmine had gotten a few minutes past, Simone was certain she could smell the musky pungency of sex emanating from Jasmine's hole. Moments later Simone was certain of it, as Jasmine slowly squatted to place her cuntflesh in erotic contact with Simone's face. The blows ceased, but in their place was the suffocating odor of femininity. There was no light, only the creamy round thighs of that woman who now straddled Simone's face, rubbing her cunt ferociously into Simone's face. Could Jasmine have gotten as excited as she had? Just by administering the whipping? Was it possible that Jasmine got the same pleasure Simone had gotten whipping Deborah? It was a strange thought, and coming atop the mixture of sensual pleasures Simone was feeling, anything seemed possible.
Now Simone could taste the cunt. She could taste the sweet-sour of the combined juices of Jasmine and Gunter. She could feel it slopping down her nose, her cheeks, and she could feel it flooding her eyes and her mouth. Jasmine's pubic hairs were prickling Simone all over the face, and the irritation of the friction made the sex fluids a welcome balm.
Simone was once again experiencing joy in her subjugation. Her own subconscious drives, long beneath the surface of awareness, were now being fulfilled. Simone was eating her mistress's cunt. As the Hauptmann was her master. Jasmine would be her mistress, and the thought excited Simone beyond belief. She could cry out now from happiness. She was a slave, and worse-she was a handmaiden to another woman. A bitch of a woman. The woman was torturing her, whipping her, kicking her, suffocating her with the vilest part of her anatomy... but, always within the level of Simone's physical tolerance.
The sensations had been beyond recollection in detail. Each lash of the whip became a source of erotic excitement. Simone's whole body could be one full-length erogenous zone. She was all sensation, all pleasure, and every feeling, whether pain or pleasure was stimulating.
Simone was unable to catch her breath for several long minutes after the woman sat on her face. Gradually, Simone adjusted to the enveloping flesh of her body and began gouging expertly with her tongue. The soft smooth pussylips parted, spurting Gunter's come and her own sex lubrication. Simone gnawed madly on Jasmine's clitoris, rolling the long erect miniprick thoughtfully between her teeth and lips. Simone was this woman's slave, and duty compelled her to administer her most sacred service to the Nordic mistress.
Simone was exhaling into Jasmine's cuntbarrel, and Jasmine was reaching for an elusive climax. She was riding Simone's face like a bicycle, and Simone was afraid for a moment of suffocating. But then it seemed the woman straddling her erupted in a great cunt-spasming explosion. For several moments Jasmine was very still, unmoving. Then suddenly Jasmine's cunt began sucking vigorously over Simone's nose and mouth. Simone could feel the floor of Jasmine's pelvis rising and falling in an orgasmic rhythm, and Jasmine's thighs and legs began to quiver.
Simone relaxed. She had performed her job. Simone continued lapping at the slippery cunt juice as long as it flowed copiously down from the innermost recess of Jasmine's body.
Simone had not climaxed. Yet, it was fitting that a slave serve only, and not participate. As Jasmine straightened and rose from her crouch, it became apparent to Simone that the two men had other ideas.
A huge grey German Shepherd dog was in the room, restrained by the Hauptmann on a leash. The Hauptmann was speaking to the party. "She needs to be punished further."
"She needs to be really punished." Gunter affirmed.
The men ripped off Simone's dress and panties and held her legs apart while the dog licked and lapped with an abrasive tongue in her tender cuntal tissues. Simone could feel the hard spiny teeth cutting her tender tissues unmercifully. The more Simone attempted to slither away from the ravenous beast, the firmer he engaged his snout in her pussy. Dogs like that had torn people apart, Simone knew. Simone spent a few moments reflecting on how such a dog might have been trained for his present work, and found the thought stimulating.
The dog slobbered at her cunt amid the remarks and amusement of the three observers, until Simone began to get really excited. Soon she was caressing the big dog's head between her pulsating thighs, driving the hard snout home. She was humping the dog vigorously now, and the dog was lapping madly at her pussy.
Simone never felt more self-abasement, in her life. To be bringing herself off helplessly on a huge carnivorous beast. The dog seemed to enjoy her juices as much as she enjoyed shoving her meat at him. And then the sensations were rippling up her spine from deep within her belly. Simone was beginning to cum. "Oooohhhh! Damn. I'm cuumminghh! Ayeeeiii cuummmmiiinnngghh... augh!" she shouted at her observers in the midst of helpless orgasmic shudders. Her tongue-lapped pussy was gyrating wildly under the dog's rasping whiskers and gnawing teeth.
And then, at some signal from the Hauptmann, the trained dog was on her belly, clawing, scratching. The dog had an erection too, and was spearing Simone's wide open cunt with it, as he groveled against her, his paws scratching and trailing blood over her ripe young titflesh. Simone could smell the dog's foul breath and she was nauseated by the animal's behavior as it fucked up into her with massive fluid movements of its hairy body. Simone squeezed down on her cunt in an effort to prevent the disgusting dog's cock from entering her, but the dog was as hard as an iron pole. It rammed her with a growl, and despite herself, Simone felt her orgasm taking hold once more and driving her over the brink. Helplessly she cried out as the dog stabbed his cock into her and she embraced the scratching clawing animal with her lovely young thighs and marble white arms and clutched it to her as it, too, went over.
It was making a growling noise way down in its throat as she squeezed its jism from its trembling haunches. The dog was no longer scratching and biting, but was becoming sated as it spewed spurt after spurt of its thick semen into her wide open cunt to the applause of the watchers.
Simone was catching her breath when the lights went out.
The other three in the room seemed to move purposely toward something which Simone had not seen before. A small flashlight was lit and then a battery radio was crackling in the background. Through a noise like that of frying eggs she could hear a voice issuing instructions. This was it, Simone hoped fervently. Word of the end. The end of the war, the end of her imprisonment. And she had survived.
"Berlin is under attack," the Hauptmann said in measured tones to his companions. "Thank you for your passport, and map. It is time I depart."
"Have no fear, Max," Gunter rejoined soberly. "Odessa will take care of you. Just get to the Swiss border before the Russians. Just hurry, for God's sake, hurry. And one other thing, Max. Thank you for the pleasant interlude with your beautiful Frau Jasmine. She is really quite a woman, that wife of yours."
In the shadows Simone could see Jasmine and the Hauptmann leave by one door, and Gunter by another. She thought of escape, but the dog stood over her like the angel of death.
Simone heard loud noises, probably bombs. She wondered how long she had been in the room after the other three left. She had time to think, and she wondered how she could so completely deteriorate into a shameless, mindless, nymph. How could she have deteriorated so completely? Simone had been anticipating the end of this war for longer than she could remember. Now, that it was on the verge of completion and she was practically free, she was aware of a feeling of empty futility. It was a feeling of inexplicable loss. It was only comparable to the feeling one had when leaving first grade to go on to second grade. It was a transition to be welcomed, but nonetheless unwelcome. Simone realized that she would not want to spend her life in prison anymore than she would want to spend her life in first grade. But there was a feeling of disappointment involved with the capture of Berlin. Simone was on the verge of crying when the matrons came for her and took her back to her cell.
Simone had noticed that lately there had been more matrons, less male guards. Of course, the obvious explanation was that the Nazis were drafting every physically able male now, old men and children were going to fight at the ever closer front lines. Now, even Berlin was under siege.
It was some hours later, punctuated by the sound and quake of continuous bombs, that the matrons came to Simone's cell and marched her to the mess hall. By Simone's calculation it was the middle of the night. The prisoners were told they were being taken to a more secure prison, and were marched, four abreast, onto the street.
Unbound, but well-guarded by nervous matrons with Lugers, the straggly line moved past the Berlin Sportspalast. Each prisoner walked with her hands on the shoulders of the prisoner ahead. If there would ever be a time to escape, thought Simone, this was it. It was hard to know how crucial escape was at this late hour. Perhaps the guards merely wanted prisoners with them as hostages for safe conduct. Or perhaps they were under orders to liquidate the prisoners before the arrival of enemy troops.
Simone, as always, was led to action by her sense of immediacy. She tripped a woman walking alongside of her, causing a disturbance when the girl fell and clutched the one ahead of her. The woman behind, who was marching with her hands on the falling woman's shoulders, stumbled on top, and in the brief confusion Simone darted into the doorway of a bomb-gutted building.
She picked up one heavy brick, wet with water from fire hoses, and stood alongside the doorway ready to brain anyone who followed her. But in the noise and confusion more than one of the prisoners must have started running, for there were shouts and then gunfire. Several died in shrieking agony, apparently because of the break Simone began. Her thoughts returned briefly to Deborah. Then, when she was certain that no one was pursuing, she clambered over the piles of rubbish and sought the security of the interior of the building.
Simone considered her position. She could not go out on the street. Dressed as she was, she would certainly be arrested again. The air raid sirens were howling again, and instinctively Simone headed for the dark center of the building. It apparently had been an apartment house, and one whole side had been simply severed from the structure. On upper floors, everything seemed more or less intact, and some of the rooms were open. Everyone must have been cleared out after the bombing, thought Simone, since the building was definitely structurally unsafe.
Simone ransacked about in the rooms, seeking clothing. She was getting nervous that she would find nothing before dark, and be forced to sleep in the chill May air wearing nothing more than the light prison clothes. Finally she found an entire wardrobe, size twelve. Shoes, and even a warm fur coat were available now. It was getting too dark to find any identification in the room, and it might not be a good idea to be caught with someone else's identification anyway. Looting was a crime, and technically, Simone was looting. On the chance that the owner of these clothes might return, Simone went to another floor and found a bathroom. There she crawled into the bathtub for protection from the wind and from discovery.
Simone had no idea how long she slept. Her bruised and aching body would not let her sleep for very long in any one position, and neither would the cold or the incessant bombing. Once she thought the building was shaking, but perhaps it was a dream. Air raid emergency sirens never stopped, until Simone was almost used to them.
Considering her brief interludes of sleep, she was awakening each time from a nightmare. She dreamed of the time she was fucked by the rail bum in the freight car. She awoke in a hot sweat only to sleep again and dream of the gang-bang by the three thugs and the murder of the tramp as he fucked her. She awakened with heart racing, wondering if she were sick, or perhaps delirious. But her complete exhaustion would not allow her to think, and soon she slept once again to dream of her debasement with the frozen man. Dreams followed, seemingly contained in other dreams, where she saw Deborah cowering, but goading Simone. Then the obscene destruction of Deborah's internal organs when she was used for archery target practice. Following the death of Deborah there were dreams of a mélange of horrible denigrations: Beatings, near strangulations, abuses, exposures, vilifications. When the sun rose to throw weak and crooked shadows into the bathroom, Simone was nearly as tired as when she went to sleep. And the skin disease was back again. Throughout all of her dreams, Simone had been clear of complexion, white and clean of skin. But when she looked at herself in the fractured mirror above the washstand, she admitted that there would be many days and nights before her body was healed. Perhaps, she thought, her mind would never be healed.
Although there was almost no water pressure, the water did trickle at the tap. Simone had nothing but time, so she plugged the drain and waited for the filling of the tub. An hour later, when it was two or three inches deep, Simone took off the fur coat and eased herself slowly into the cold water. Once wet all over it did not seem as bad.
And then there were footsteps: The heavy fall of jackboots in the hallway. Simone crunched down in the tub and sought to make herself as small and unnoticeable as possible. While hiding, she noticed for the first time that the incessant, sirens had ceased, allowing her to hear the approaching footfalls. They stopped just outside the bathroom door. Something must have caught the approacher's eye. It may have been her clothing. The footsteps came closer, and Simone, in a futile attempt to postpone the inevitable, shut her eyes tightly.
The steps came right up to the lip of the tub. Simone was not certain whether there would be a quick discharge of gunsmoke and then eternal forgetfulness, or the lash of another whip. For a long time she did not breathe. Perhaps he would think her dead? No, that was absurd. When she could no longer hold her breath, she shyly opened her eyes to see a man in a strange uniform looking carefully at her nude body.
"Fraulein?" he said with appreciation through a heavy Russian accent.
The Russians, thought Simone. Oh, God, the Russians have captured Berlin during the night. It's all over. It is finally all over. Simone did not know whether to weep with happiness or with fear. The leer on the soldier's face made Simone wonder if things would be any different now than they had been for these last few months.
With a rough movement of a strong arm, the dark-bearded man yanked Simone from the cold water and toweled her dry as though he had not seen a nude woman before in his life. Simone tried to be somewhat protective, but from long experience knew what would come next. The soldier's cock was already making an enormous bulge in his uniform.
But the stimulating warmth of the toweling, as he carefully wiped her ass and her crevice, made Simone begin to succumb psychologically to the ministrations of the soldier's massage. Perhaps, as it was rumored, this soldier carried cigarettes, or even chocolate. She hazarded a shy smile toward his preoccupied face, and she could see the cock jerk once, forcefully, in response. She could sense the depravity with which this foreigner's mind worked, as his hands groped for her tits.
Berlin had been captured. The war was over. She could go back to Marburg to continue her studies, or even back to Switzerland. She was free again. Life would be all that it once was.
The fumbling Russian was beginning to breathe heavily with irregular gasps. His fingers trembled as they caressed her titflesh and tugged at her erect little nipples.
They were only erecting from the cold of the water. Simone tried to make herself believe at first. And then the familiar pattern of arousal began again, and she voluptuously slid one hand down to her own lush vee and fingered herself slowly. After all, they would have all the time in the world.
The Russian was pawing her, kneading her tender titflesh with hard strong fingers. He said something to her which she did not understand, then made it clear by puckering his lips and advancing on her.
She opened her mouth to his, and he was embracing her, hard and cruel, as though to release her would cost his life. She felt the sharp uniform accoutrements stabbing at her tender young flesh, but she could ignore them. She was used to far more pain than one man could inflict at one time. She embraced him in return and felt his tongue enter her mouth hotly, probingly. She had never seen anyone so aroused. She felt he would ejaculate in his pants just by holding her to himself. She could feel his breathing become ragged as his cockmeat throbbed against her abdomen.
Anxious not to waste, the experience, Simone reached down and quickly unbuttoned his trousers to release his burgeoning cock. It. was longer and thicker than any she had ever seen before. It was at least as big around and as long as the whip handle that was used as a dildo when she hung suspended in the ropes at the Lehrterstrasse.
Suddenly Simone was creaming inside her own cunt, with the anticipation of having that cock ream her hole. She had never seen anything like it. Somehow, she knew that it would hurt even more than the whiphandle did, and she became excited thinking about that hurt. Ohhh, she reflected, she would goad this Russian into fucking her until that cock stuck in her throat. She would make him skewer her until she enshrouded every available centimeter of that shaft. Perhaps until she split, inside. And she would love it, she knew.
Simone was massaging the smooth shiny skin, easing back its brown texture over the bright red knob that protected, sore-looking, from the extreme tip. The little vertical slit was already leaking a clear fluid, and Simone was unable to stop herself from automatically bending down to engulf the rod in her watering mouth.
At the touch of her lips the soldier jumped back. She slowed her approach, blowing her warm breath on the turgid meat while she slowly stroked the balls which were tightly pressed against the root of the weaving rod. The balls were like big eggs tightly locked into the skin. They moved very little, but felt warm and pendulous with their load of sperm. Simone's mouth drooled in anticipation of getting that hot jism pumped inside of her. There seemed enough there for two uninterrupted minutes of ejaculation.
The Red soldier hastily began stripping off his uniform. He undid his belt and encircled her neck with it, making it serve as a sort of leash. Moments later he was jerking her head forward over his burgeoning prick. The massive rod was impossible for Simone to close her mouth around, and she lapped at it as one would lick an ice cream cone. When the Red got impatient with this, he tugged cruelly on the belt and forced Simone to take more of the rod into the back of her throat.
She knew she could not take the cock in her mouth, and urged the soldier's attention to his balls and his hairy asshole by pulling and twisting at the hairs that grew there.
The pressure became intense for Simone to swallow the cock whole when the soldier began jerking her head forward on the leash while at the same time jerking his hips forward.
The cock was pressing far back against the ring of muscle that protects that opening to the throat. Somewhere, Simone remembered reading that when Harry Houdini was performing in Germany thirty years before, he was able to swallow an ivory egg and then bring it up again, using some trick of relaxing his throat muscles.
One heavy hand was pressing against her occiput, virtually driving her head onto the spiking pole, and she was powerless to resist. If she was to choke to death, she was unable to prevent it. The moment she tried relaxing her throat, the cock popped into her esophagus. It lodged there, bucking, while her Pharynx milked it with contractions she had never before experienced. But she realized that although Houdini might have been able to hold his breath under water for several minutes through practice, she would suffocate if she did not inhale within about one minute. Even while she thought these things she began to see black spots cloud her vision. She had to get his cock from obstructing her windpipe, and the only way she knew of dislodging a cock was to make it limp.
Desperately she began swallowing, making the walls of her throat constrict rapidly and hard. She worked the cock, making her head move back and forth over the enormous meat until she felt the prick grow perceptibly in size, buck viciously within her soft smooth mouth, and then begin pumping.
Simone could feel spurt after spurt of hot jism coursing through the tube at the underside of the huge cock. The man tightened the leash and her throat constricted even more around the massive member.
And then the jism was pouring deep into her throat, warming her, with its searing, gushing ocean of sperm.
But the black spots were getting larger and beginning to run together like flowing puddles before she felt the prick go limp and she could reflexively gag it up to clear her airway.
Simone was limp, exhausted. The soldier was dragging her face down across the floor by the leash. One hand came around her waist, and he lifted her unceremoniously and dropped her, gasping into one of the beds in the buildings. Roughly, he spread her legs wide and she could see him feasting his eyes on her feminine portals. His cock was limp yet, but beginning to jerk erect. He wiped his drool with the back of one hairy forearm and applied his mouth to her cunthole with a tongue the like of which Simone had never before experienced. Perhaps it was the way he bent her neck forward with the belt that made her innermost tissues more exposed to his ravaging tongue. Perhaps his tongue was as long as his cock. Whichever, she could feel the membranes far inside begin to melt with the passion this Red soldier evoked. His tongue invaded, curled, twisted, and slipped all the way out, rubbing in the process all of the internal sphincter muscles inside. He did this again and again, each time adding a new and different thrill to his oral ministration.
When Simone was wet and drippy below, he pulled back, and wiping the drool and sex lava from his face, positioned his massive cock at her cunt. Simone froze with apprehension and doubt as she watched him handle the cock from between her twin mountains of titflesh. She was certain his pecker would split her down below.
She was certain of it as he inserted the glans with one rough thrust. Her scream was silenced by that ham-like fist that loosened some of her teeth. She explored the bleeding salty split on the inside of her cheek while he shoved another few centimeters of cock into her belly.
She groaned, wishing she had died a long time ago, before she was even captured. Perhaps, with luck, she would have broken her neck when she leapt from the moving passenger train. Her life since then had been one erotically painful event.
The Red was kneading her resilient white asscheeks as he slammed his naked loins against her. She could feel her body arch up to him even further as her instinctual lust encroached upon her mind. The agony had lessened now, and she purposefully blanked out her memory, letting her legs spread wider on either side of her ravisher's humping body. Dimly, she was aware of her calves and ankles thrashing wildly in the air. She was also aware of his balls, heavy, sperm filled, as they slapped harder and harder against her asscheeks.
What had looked to be an enormously oversize cock had fit her stretched cunt far better than she would have predicted. Now, the soldier's lust-hardened tool drove wildly into her open young pussy as it slipped in and out in a hectic pistoning motion He was pressing his fingers over the bouncing firmness of her asscheeks until he could squeeze both huge white orbs together against his jerking scrotum. Finally ceasing his pinching and squeezing of her ass, he held her hand in his and brought it down under her to force her fingers around his jism filled halls. Her fingers touched their rubbery softness and groped their twin fullness through the tautly stretched skin.
Simone wriggled in wild abandon as her pussy became greedier for its treasure. The heat seemed to be asking out of her body, the smooth inner tendons of her thighs quivering as she began the race to a mind-shattering orgasm. Her eager pelvis thrashed wantonly on its skewering cock in obscene rhythm with the wetly sucking sound her pussy emitted. Her fingers milked his balls and he quickened his speed while deep satisfying grunts emerged from his throat.
The soldier was fucking into her faster and faster, his hardened prick going deeper into the gushing fluids of her juice-soaked cunt as she embraced his rolling ass with thighs and legs and goaded him on to further fury. Her fingers worked at his balls until she could feel the jism boiling through his expanding prick.
Simone waited, her mind swimming with a frenzied yearning, until she felt him shudder violently on top of her. Then she ground her hotly sucking pussy up to the base of his plunging fucktool. Clamping tightly on the root of the prick, she churned her loins up and jerked at his testicles with her fingers.
As if struck by lightning, her orgasmic climax gushed, exploding through her entire body, ran lewdly down in between her desperately lust-clenched asscheeks. The tide rose and fell, spurting and percolating from the hot little sucking mouth of her young pussy.
Only slowly did the lightning become dim and the thunder become silent. The soldier collapsed heavily down onto Simone's sweaty young breasts, exhausted and emptied.
Although she could not understand his language, he made it plain by his gestures that she was to come with him. He removed the belt from her neck, and allowed her to dress in the finery she had been able to loot from the open apartments.
On the streets the civilians of Berlin were spreading their coats out for the conquering Russians. Only gradually did Simone realize that he was not taking her to a civilian processing station, but to his barracks. Once behind the barbed wire of the Communist compound the soldiers crowded around and made much of her presence. Simone saw something in their eyes as they ogled her that she did not like. But Simone was powerless to resist. She knew how the soldiers would treat her objections.
With a feeling of enormous emptiness, she realized grudgingly that she had merely traded one captor for another. She was a prisoner once more. Or perhaps she had never been anything but a prisoner.
Had she not been prisoner of her lusty body from the very beginning? She let herself be dragged away by the noisily gesticulating Russian soldiers.