BDSM Library - Battleship Prien, the living hell for nazis' prisoners

Battleship Prien, the living hell for nazis' prisoners

Provided By: BDSM Library
www.bdsmlibrary.com



Synopsis: Germany won the Second World War with the aid of Japan. 56 years later the rest of the Solar System is colonized, full with Battleships of the two superpower Empires. In 2001 Battleship Gunther Prien headed towards Neptune's fifth moon, Larissa. Aboard the ship condemned Aryan women were waiting for facing their not too bright future. Almost all of them committed the simple crime of being lesbians, performing a behaviour like that wasn't not tolerated by the Third Reich. Five of them imprisoned on Earth but only one or two was to arrive to Larissa's moonbase. Resources were limited and the unworthy were to be selected and perished by the crew. A Japanese agent and a Japanese prisoner also travelled on the ship, their roles and future were depending on the interplanetary conspiracy what was forming in deep space amongst Aryan and Japanese warlords. Which prisoner will survive the trip, which will die under inhuman agony? What are the Japanese guests' real goals and h!ow far does the conspiracy reach? And finally, what is happening on a ship filled with sexually repressed, sadistic nazis?

Battleship Prien, the living hell for nazis' prisoners

Authors: Noemi Salvadge & Mister Johnson

Author's emails: Noya2929 [at] gmail [dot] com

Tags: M/f, M/f+, F/f, F/f+, F+/f+, interracial, modification, snuff, Tit Torture, feet, slavery, bondage, real, torture, nc, Extreme, Scifi

Introduction

Summary

Germany won the Second World War with the aid of Japan. 56 years later the rest of the Solar System is colonized, full with Battleships of the two superpower Empires. In 2001 Battleship Gunther Prien headed towards Neptune's fifth moon, Larissa. Aboard the ship condemned Aryan women were waiting for facing their not too bright future. Almost all of them committed the simple crime of being lesbians, performing a behaviour like that wasn't not tolerated by the Third Reich. Five of them imprisoned on Earth but only one or two was to arrive to Larissa's moonbase. Resources were limited and the unworthy were to be selected and perished by the crew. A Japanese agent and a Japanese prisoner also travelled on the ship, their roles and future were depending on the interplanetary conspiracy what was forming in deep space amongst Aryan and Japanese warlords. Which prisoner will survive the trip, which will die under inhuman agony? What are the Japanese guests' real goals and how far does the conspiracy reach? And finally, what is happening on a ship filled with sexually repressed, sadistic nazis?

The story is set in a realistic environment. Magical powers and supernatural creatures have no part in this narrative.

Disclaimer

This story involves quite a lot of horrible activities including, but not restricted to, torture, death, bondage, body modification, humiliation, nudity, racism and slavery. In most case they are done in a non-consensual, unhealthy, insane, destructing, disrespectful, politically- and socially incorrect ways. If you do not like to read such things, we strongly advise you to stop here and now. Should you choose to continue despite our most vehement warning, you would do so at your own risk and responsibility.

This is a work of fiction. The characters and actions depicted in this story live only in the twisted mind of their authors. Hopefully they will grow in the mind of our readers as well. However, we do not condone, approve or recommend the acts we describe. This is fiction and should remain as such. Do not do this at home!

No animal got harmed during the writing of this story.

Introductory notes

This story was written as a collaborative game by Noemi Salvadge and Mister Johnson. This story is very long. At the moment of this writing, it has been continuing on a regular basis. In spite of its length and collaborative nature, we feel that we have managed to stay on track and follow a logical and rhythmical progression. We hope that it will provide a good reading to those who relish this kind of extreme hallucinations.

One of the authors is not being a native speaker of English, and although we have made an extensive use of orthographic correctors, you will certainly stumble on quite a lot of barbarisms and awkward pieces of syntax. We apologise for those and hope that they will not too much detract our readers from enjoying our deviant ideas.



I. Chapter - Prologue to the journey of hell

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Lieutenant Commander Günther Prien (16 January 1908 – presumed killed 7 March 1941) was one of the most outstanding German U-boat aces of the first part of the Second World War, and the first U-boat commander to win the Knight's Cross variant of the Iron Cross. Under Prien's command, the submarine U-47 sank over 30 Allied ships totalling about 200,000 gross register tons (GRT). His most famous exploit was the sinking of the British battleship HMS Royal Oak at anchor in the Home Fleet's anchorage in Scapa Flow.


* * *


The huge vessel was headed towards the land of eternal darkness, towards the empty void of deep space. The boarder of the Solar System was neither an attractive nor useful destination. Beyond the orbit of Pluto nothing else waited for humankind but an eternal realm of absolute zero. However, the giant battleship Günther Prien was only scheduled to reach Neptune's fifth moon, Larissa. What a poetical name for a near barren lump of frozen rock - the nymph of Thessaly, the lover of sea-god Neptune.

The Prien was carrying supplies to that small moon where the Third Empire had established a scientific experimentation lab decades ago. The base ‘Larissa's Heart’ had grown huge during the years, its tunnels and wings criss-crossing the core of the moon. They served one and only one purpose - to fulfil the command of life and love, to bring sense into the ancient relation of the Nymph and Sea-god, to breed more and more nymphs who were destined to serve the Aryan Empire. Again, a poetic description for what was essentially an inhuman experiment in forced breeding resulting from rape of the most brutal kind.


Deep inside the belly of the eight hundred meter long vessel, two women - two condemned ‘potential breeding females’ - waited in their narrow cells. One of them was unconscious, a tranquilizer providing long and dreamless sleep. The other was terrified and rather desperate, not knowing for sure (but suspecting) that her fate would be worse than any sane human mind could accept. All Aryans heard sinister rumours about what happened to those who offended against the spirit of Mein Kampf. All across the Empire, people whispered that those suspected of such things never returned, not once the Gestapo arrested them. The law was strict. Despite the honoured position of all true blooded Germans, any who failed to obey the Führer's teachings had to face the consequences. Horrible consequences, if the rumours were right.


Geraldine never meant to break the law or commit any unholy acts, but she couldn't deny the cursed reactions of her body and heart. She had always served the Empire well. She loved the Führer with all her might and sought to uphold his standards - although her unnatural desires and corrupted body betrayed her. She managed to keep this secret over so many years, almost reaching forty before it was uncovered. Geraldine considered herself lucky not to have been unveiled much earlier. The bare truth was - she was a lesbian. Strictly homosexual, hopelessly devoted to female bodies and souls, carrying the terrible secret alone all over the years. No one knew. To the wider world, she was the nearest thing the Nazi’s had to a ‘professional woman’. She had enjoyed an outstanding career as a high school councillor. She was often invited to give some lectures at different universities too. Her unique knowledge of adolescence aggression made her a respected psychologist, ‘self-recognition teacher’ and a widely recognized coach for talented youngsters. The majority of her students went on to the leading Officer Training academies.


As a mature woman working with fresh faced young students, Geraldine faced temptation day after day. The girls became more and more precocious; the change was slow but irreversible. They spoke more openly, they dressed more sexily, they started to grow and paint their nails earlier as semester after semester passed. Geraldine started to realize that there were also more of them who had homo or at least bisexual tendencies. As the school's head psychologist, Geraldine took every opportunity to have private sessions with the most suspicious pupils. Driven by the best intentions, she confronted them with their hidden desires. She ruthlessly forced them admit their unnatural attractions. Finally, she scared them to death with her brutally honest explanation of the homosexual deviance law and its consequences. Arrest. Interrogation. Rape therapy. And for irredeemable lesbians - an exquisitely prolonged death on ‘the Joy Machine’, the most agonizing method of execution any state had ever invented. Sometimes she even showed them film of the device in action. It was a bizarrely mechanical bed on which a pretty girl their age was mounted, squirming in agony until, she stopped moving and lay twisted in agonized death. Her rough methods were successful. The teenagers changed their attitude and the signs of the blasphemy disappeared from their daily behaviour. Geraldine did the best she could to protect those children from themselves, and hoped strongly, that none of them proved to be so hopelessly lost as she herself was.


Unfortunately such secrets cannot be hidden over a lifetime, especially from a specialized Gestapo Agency dedicated to filtering out corrupted individuals.


Only a couple of months ago, when new semester started, Geraldine met another girl with obvious lesbian tendencies. Her name was Ingrid. She was almost like Geraldine's younger self, a tall, thin, lightly brunette little lady with pointed nose and wide smile. The light of naughtiness had never faded away from those dark eyes. Ingrid had just turned eighteen. She joined a class in Geraldine's school after her father, a high ranking army officer, was relocated from the sinful North America back to Ruhr.


Geraldine took every opportunity to be with her students. She assisted with after school activities like sports events or movie clubs, and so very early discovered Ingrid's secret. Oh, it was not that obvious - the young girl was kind and nice to everyone. She had lived in America so everyone wanted to listen to her stories of a place where an inferior slave nation populated the rest of the land mixed with black and with so called Indian people. Ingrid was friendly, very direct and informal, but there were signs of something else, too. The seeping corruption that would blight her life. She was obviously too much keen on touching her female classmates' bodies. Playful taps on shoulders, momentary strokes of faces, adoration of other girls' hands covered by the story of being a bracelet, ring and nail freak. Every piece of evidence pointed to the bitter fact that another poor, lost soul had just shown up.


Next Monday afternoon, Geraldine invited Ingrid into her office. As usual she was preparing to scare the girl enough to force her leave her deviances behind. But this time her plan did not work, even worse, she fell into a trap. A trap that could not be avoided or prevented, because the body and the soul cannot always be controlled by the rational mind. Geraldine fell in love.


The memory of that fateful talk was still clear in her mind. Even now, in the icy steel confines of her cell, Geraldine could see it. Ingrid was so sweet, so natural, so very much alive from the beginning. She smiled like an angel. She took her seat in front of Geraldine without any suspicious thoughts. Even later, when Geraldine asked her the more ‘sensitive’ questions, the girl remained calm and smiled that innocent smile. At first the teacher thought the sexy girl was simply being naive, but as time went on, she started to reconsider. Ingrid was not naive - she was just free and reckless. This time, her lecture did not work. It just made Ingrid giggle. That was infuriating.


“For God's sake, Ingrid, can't you see how risky what you’re doing is? You are a grown woman, the law's every clauses can be enacted on you!“


“I know, I really know. But I would rather live happily for a short time than suffer all my life by repressing my true nature. I like women, Ma'am! It’s as simple as that. Les women... like you,“ she whispered and looked right into Geraldine's eyes. Her face was a mask of control but desire was burning in those dark eyes. Geraldine's world shook and she almost fell from her desk. She just stared at the girl.


“How... what...“ she stammered with red face, completely confused, doing exactly what the challenged pupils did normally. The angelic girl suddenly burst into laughter - into screams of loud and free laughter. Geraldine’s jaw dropped even further but finally she managed to smile. It took half a minute or so for Ingrid to reduce her hysterics to playful giggles. Even then she needed to bite her knuckle to do it.


“If you could have seen yourself, dear! The look on your face! But to answer your question, how do I know?“ she imitated Geraldine's desperate words and lowered voice “I just simply feel it. I always feel it. And I also feel when it is special, when there is something - sparks, these emotional tendrils between me and... well, like there is with you.“ Ingrid explained and involuntarily wriggled a tuft of hair next to her ear.


And Geraldine couldn't resist. The temptation she had resisted over so many years finally defeated her. She stood up, passed round the table and stood above the girl. She cradled the pretty face between her palms and suddenly kissed the student. The dice was cast.


The coming months were the most beautiful period of Geraldine's life. Ingrid was not only free in her mind and heart - not only brave - not only sexy beautiful - but she proved to be a wildcat in bed. Her booming energies, unlimited naughtiness and never-ending lust turned their rendezvouses into a continual sweat covered orgy of screaming in utter pleasure.


It was not the first time she had given way to her desires. Sometimes Geraldine took a risk and visited the dark tenements of Dortmund. Cheap hotel rooms, alleys, dangerous districts. They were inhabited by members of the defeated slave nations – Slavs - the inferior Polish, Russian people. Unfortunate and miserable creatures used for doing menial work. Their home district was nothing more than a rancid slum, where overcrowding and disease were commonplace. Their numbers were high but the high lethality rate of their work ensured that the population remained within a manageable size. Visiting their district was risky, but it was a place where illegal needs for drugs or prostitution could easily be fulfilled. So Geraldine went there and hired sub-human females from time to time, just to alleviate her torturing sexual lust. These girls had been good. Perhaps they hoped that if the discrete German woman approved of them, they might be employed as a ‘maid’ in her home. She had known their tongues and their kisses, the probing of their skilful fingers inside her wet slit and anus - then the shame which came from fulfilling her desires this way. For buying cheap sex as if it was something dirty. None of those previous occasions – not one - ever matched anything she did with Ingrid. The girl was an explosive shell of wild, bursting sexual energy. Their secret dates in Geraldine's home (covered by the story of private lessons) brought new colours to the teacher's life. Bright, happy colours she had never known before.


The new relationship caused little disruption to her routine. She had never had boyfriend or a husband. In 2011 a woman around the age of forty could still be in perfect condition. Due to highly developed reproductive medicine, the Aryan race's biological clock ticked slowly. Geraldine was still fairly attractive; her skin was smooth, regular exercises kept her body shapely and flexible, only a little beauty surgery was needed to maintain the look of her late twenties. Her face was pretty with high cheek bones, her teeth were all lighting white. No wrinkles defaced the beauty of her green eyes. As a woman who served the Empire and dedicated her life to those duties, nobody blamed her for living for her job. The lack of men around her was not a giveaway.


But the Gestapo's Sexual Aberration Unit couldn't be fooled forever. Geraldine had guessed that agents of the G-SAU were in every school, regular looking pupils studying as everybody else did, but trained to filter out heretics. Geraldine was better than them. They were young and inexperienced, and she had protected herself over decades. On the other hand Ingrid was uncontrollable, and despite the teacher's pleas and regular warnings she kept on flirting with her, even in the school building. The teenage girl somehow enjoyed the danger and the excitement that all this foolish behaviour brought. She must have regretted it later.


Ingrid caught the attention of one of the agents, a secret monitoring procedure was launched, and only a few months later, in an early afternoon, Gestapo troopers broke into Geraldine's home. They found the two women naked, sweating on the top of the queen size bed, bodies entwined. When the mission's commander stepped into the bedroom he had hard time to decide where one woman ended and the other started. They tore the couple apart, slippery dildos roughly yanked out from sensitive orifices. The teenager fought them so viciously they needed to knock Ingrid out. As her lover fell unconscious to the ground Geraldine gave up fighting and slumped into apathy. She knew that everything was lost.

In cases like theirs, no trial was held. The Gestapo units ranking officer passed immediate judgment and in most cases, that was just a short but agonizing spell on the Joy Machine, then an unmarked grave. Both women were taken away covered only by black robes. Geraldine was cuffed and blindfolded, handled ruthlessly as the State thugs pushed them into a waiting van. Nobody told them anything, and after long hours later they arrived somewhere. A place of execution? Perhaps not. It struck her – this looked more like a naval base.


She hardly remembered how she was fastened to the wall of a container, or the horrible pressure she experienced when the rocket was shot into the space. There was nausea when she felt zero gravity the first time in her life, but also some relief – her sentence was not death. She lost her sense of time, although that couldn't have been more than one day before she was finally released from her bonds and roughly thrown into this cell. At least there was gravity.


After arriving on the spacecraft she heard people talking, strict female voices discussing the Battleship Prien. They spoke about a moon of the planet Neptune, about something called the Genetic Disorder Correction Program. About cloning and Aryan Race Breeding, about Forced Emotional Bonds Denial Tests - but those things were all alien to her. She was far too confused and weak to build a picture out of the puzzle. Finally, they left her alone in a tiny cubical no than three metres long and two meters wide with height of only two metres.


The walls, floor and ceiling were all made of silvery metal, smooth and cold. She hugged herself inside the thick black fabric. She explored the cell, but there was not too much to see. The door was made of metal with a window in it, but it seemed to be a one-way squint. Geraldine's side was pitch black. There was one painfully harsh bulb sunk into the ceiling. It was so precisely fitted that not even the tip of her long fingernail could get between the glass and the socket. Cold air was blowing slightly and she found the tiny holes of a ventilation system, although she found nothing controlling it. At the end of the cell was a small, gaping black hole surrounded by foul smell. That gave her a good idea about its purpose. Geraldine squatted over the hole and used it - her bladder was about to burst as she hadn't seen toilet for a long, long time.


It was then that she discovered a small window in the upper corner. Through it, she saw a cell identical to her own. Her heart gave a jump as she recognized Ingrid lying on the floor face down, totally motionless. Geraldine knocked on the window and even started to shout, but the young girl did not react. It didn’t seem that any sound could pass between cells.

The teacher finally flopped down the floor and started to cry heavily, tears of exhaustion and frustration. She was hungry but even thirstier. She worried so about her own fate, but was absolutely terrified for her careless lover. Dark thoughts whirled in her mind as time slowly passed.


Suddenly, the whole cell rocked violently. She screamed and doubled herself up in a corner, but after repeated shakes she finally realised the explanation - the spaceship's huge nuclear reactors were being switched on one by one to push the vessel up to cruising speed. The voyage towards the Neptune had just started.


Battleship Prien, the living hell for nazis' prisoners

Authors: Noemi Salvadge & Mister Johnson

Author's emails: Noya2929 [at] gmail [dot] com)

Tags: M/f, M/f+, F/f, F/f+, F+/f+, interracial, modification, snuff, Tit Torture, feet, slavery, bondage, real, torture, nc, Extreme, Scifi



II. Chapter - Nazi pleasures

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Zara always tried to make her orgasms coincide with the atomic engines being turned to full thrust. It was a strange quirk, but powerful with her. She pressed her hands flat against the top of the bunk and she ground her hips down onto the handsome Sergeant. It was like – she was riding both her man and the battleship.


“Oh fuck! Fuck! Do me! Ride me hard, Gunther Prien you miserable bastard! Make me cum or I’ll have you shot!”


And he did. Pleasure took her hard, and in the throes of it she raked cherry red enamelled nails all over his chest. He rolled her over – not easy on the small bunk-bed – and began to ream her with full force. She lifted her trim legs and locked them together around his back – laughing, she squeezed her thighs tight, almost crushing his ribs - and bit him. He came explosively, shooting creamy cum between her thighs, but Zara was fierce, and Zara was unsatisfied. He had to keep going until the ship was at full thrust.


Later – when they were mixed up the sweat stained cotton sheets – Steiner checked his wounds and complained.


“I’ve seen this before. When I was showering after boxing with Gerhard, his skin was shredded like this. Did you…?”


She considered, drawing hard on her cigarette.


“Gerhard? Another sergeant? What does he look like?”


“Blonde hair, big muscles, blue eyes.”


“Oh, that narrows it down! All of you Nazi boys have muscles and blonde hair and big cocks. Hmmm.” She considered. “I suppose it could be. But then, lots of Nazi girls like to claw.”


With smoke still on her breath, she kissed him again.


“I’m going to have a shower. I’m supposed to be on duty in twenty minutes.”


“Torturing deviants?”


“Hm,” she simmered, rubbing her firm breasts against him,” Why do you think I was feeling so horny?”


Zara washed and then dressed in her uniform, enjoying the way the black clothing changed her, made her more sinister. In truth, she was just a slightly petite, chic redhead. Out of uniform, her face was pretty, her smile knowing, her hair cut into a very elegant grown-out crop. In uniform she became Staff Sergeant Lansmuller of the SS ‘Special Action’ division. A woman to be feared. She pulled on elbow length black leather gloves, and then her calf high jackboots, lovingly polished by the prisoners in her care. One quick check in the mirror – a slight adjustment of that peaked cap with its little silver skull – Perfect!


She turned back to the bed, where the Sergeant was still lying. He had clearly enjoyed watching her get dressed. Smirking, Zara put her boot up beside him, giving him a chance to look up her skirt towards her non-regulation lace underwear. Gently, she reached a hand down and stoked the bulge in the blankets, pretending to be surprised by the stiffness she found beneath it.


“Oh, would you like to fuck me in my SS uniform, Sergeant?” she asked politely. When he nodded, a slow, sordid smile crossed her face. “I thought so. Perhaps it’s the thought of all those Lesbians I’m going to be making scream today.”


She kissed him again, this time her lips tasted of toothpaste and mouthwash.


“Be here when I get back. We’ll see about some more fucking.”


It took five minutes for her to ger from the crew quarters to the detention cells. One of her favourite walks, through long tunnels that were more like trenches. Past the hydroponics unit with its great glass water tanks that shed an eerie blue light over the scene. The battleship Günther Prien was constructed on a massive scale, like so many things in the Third Empire. She loved its sense of throbbing power.


She walked into holding cells and selected the equipment she would be using that morning. And who to start with? With these deviants, you went for the weaker first. The older woman who had lived with her shame for so long. She would be the easier of the two to break.


Zara opened the door to the cell and threw a garment towards Geraldine. The prisoner shuffled tiredly to her feet. Years of ingrained obedience. However, she took the opportunity for a stealthily look at the officer. She was far too terrified to think of anything sexual, but Geraldine's profession involved working with people, understanding and occasionally influencing them. In the desperate situation she faced, her only hope was to find a common voice with her captors. For her own and for Ingrid's sakes.


“Remove that black rag you are wearing. You are in my care now. I say how you dress.”


Geraldine did as instructed. There was a conflict between the shame of her predicament, and the shame of nudity, but she complied. Although she was not as young as her lover, or her tormentor, she has a long legged, gawky kind of beauty. Her mouth was wide, her eyes large, shadowed by attractive cheek bones. And her smart brain never stopped whirring. She didn't like the Nazi woman. Physically the officer was more than satisfactory, her face was pretty, almost charming, even her thin, stubbornly clenched mouth increased her overall attractiveness. But the eyes were icy cold, her voice was sharp. The woman radiated an intimidating aura, and in her current tight squeeze Geraldine was intimidated by that. She was slightly, but visibly shaking.


“Sit on your bunk. Hands behind your head.”


Again, Geraldine obeyed, taking a posture that showed off her breasts. She received a sharp slap across the face, which startled her. The blow from the leather glove was sudden and more humiliating than painful, but it served as proof. The Nazis were not playing soft games. Aryan citizen or not, she was to be treated like anybody else in the prisons of swastika. With brutal force.


“Legs. Open them. Display your cunt.”


Wincing, Geraldine forced herself to obey that instruction too. Her knees slowly moved apart, revealing her neatly trimmed crotch. Geraldine never paid too much attention to the sight of her groin. That was again some kind of a youngster fashion Ingrid introduced to her, and after the first passionate evening she kept on carefully shaving and trimming her pubic hairs, letting only a cute triangle at the bottom of her belly grow.


“I am surprised it took you so long. Don’t you think I am a beautiful woman? Well?” the provocative question came and Geraldine's world turned upside down. She sensed danger but was unable to think, to consider what answer was meant to be given.


“Yes.”


Another slap from a gloved hand. Geraldine clenched her eyes shut and painfully snarled for a split second, showing off her perfect teeth.


“Yes what?”


“Yes, the staff sergeant is a beautiful woman.” she moaned softly. At least she managed to recognize the woman's insignia. Uniforms were a basic subject to be learned by heart in elementary schools. God help her if she’d got it wrong.


“And I thought you liked showing your cunt to beautiful women? So why not me? Are you too good for me, is that it? Do you only like to play your sick games with little girls and Russian whores?”


Zara took her face in a gloved hand and pushed her head back, as if searching in her eyes for something. The signs of long dried tears. Oh, she thought, we will freshen those up very soon…


“All those years telling the Gestapo you were persuading young girls to renounce their deviance and become the breeding machines nature intended them to be. And all the while, you were selecting the prettiest for yourself. Your whole life has been a lie. You are a hypocrite. And yet – yes, it is remarkable. You seem – so normal. I wonder if you’ll be the one to survive.” Zara talked and talked, listing all Geraldine's crimes within a few sentences and even accusing her with things she had never committed. The grip around her chin was painful, the thin woman had surprisingly strong fingers. Geraldine wanted to say something, protest or at least correct the Nazi, but the meaning of the officer's last words finally became clear.


“Survive – what do you mean.. I thought..?” the teacher groaned in terrified voice as her lovely green eyes widened to an almost surreal size.


“That you were on your way to an experimentation camp? Yes. You and your little cunt whore. And other women too, all along this corridor. All of you are supposed to reach ‘Neptune’s Heart.’” Now she leaned closer, enjoying the growing fear on Geraldine’s face “But this battleship is far bigger than the facilities you are being shipped to. It lacks the capacity to take all of our prisoners. So – we carry out a little cull on the way. Select the most likely candidates, and we – hm – we ‘loose’ the rest on the way.” Zara finished, but Geraldine's face remained frozen into a truly desperate grimace.


The true reasons for culling the prisoners were slightly different, although only a few people knew the truth. Breeding the Aryan race and experimenting on the human body for humankind's sake was a noble mission, and only the best experimental subjects promised success. As this genetic research would essentially impact the final incarnation of the master race, only whose genome was corruption-free or were only slightly corrupted were considered suitable. Homosexuality had been proven to be partially a genetic disorder, so the deviants must be filtered carefully. The method used was a series of “Forced Emotional Bond Denial Tests“, under which prisoners were tested brutally. Mostly, they were required to betray the subject of their unnatural tendencies, determining whether they were able to sacrifice their lovers. Those who succeeded demonstrated that they were better subjects for the experiments, as their genetic weakness did not completely rule their life. The rest could be liquidated as their torturers saw fit.


Zara kicked the garment on the floor with a toe of her polished boot.


“Put this on. Quickly.”


“What is it?” the prisoner asked, the previous shock leaving her confused her enough to dare open questions. Surprisingly, Zara replied, mostly because she had more humiliating hints to give.


“A harness. It is what sub-human slaves wear aboard ship. And they get into it very quickly, unless they wish to be beaten.”


“When may I take it off?”


Zara laughed. Then she said acidly:


“When you die.”


The teacher shivered, the corners of her mouth curled for weeping, but finally she managed keep her cold blood. She focused on her task - to put that “dress“ on. Geraldine looked at the item – not a garment, just a series of straps. Her face turned to red from the shame. Truly horrifying rumours circulated about the Nazi way of dealing with condemned prisoners, but none of them mentioned such humiliations. Not that she had any choice. Geraldine wriggled into the monstrous thing, squeezing her breasts into the leather bands. Zara quickly did up the catches at the back, pulling it breathtakingly tight.


Geraldine viewed herself in the reflection of the steel walls, and looked horror struck. A net of hide and steel bound her torso. Her breasts were pushed forwards like ripe fruit. Her waste was constricted to the point when it became hard to breathe, and yet – yes, it did turn her rather normal figure into something  appealing. Dynamic. A thought flickered through her mind – if only Ingrid could see this. But then, Ingrid probably will. And when she next saw her young lover, no doubt she would have been dressed as a Nazi fuck toy too.

And clearly, that was the idea. The outfit was designed for two things – control and display during rape. There were rings at the back where handcuffs could be fixed to the harness. Another at the throat, where a leash might be attached. And – there was something about that collar which convinced her it could be made very tight indeed. Tight enough to choke the victim if their interrogator desired.


“You look quite lovely,” Zara nodded with approval. “A shame…”


Geraldine decided to give the officer a try. As a psychologist she knew a lot about people's motivation, especially when actions were driven by aggression. This woman was like those pitiful gang leaders in schools, a person who enjoyed and savoured their power over others. She seemed to love the fear surrounding her, and that might have meant she was craving for adoration. Geraldine wanted to satisfy the woman's needs in the strong hope for receiving mercy, or at least some fondness towards her. She suddenly fell onto her kneed in front of Zara, and let her forehead touch the polished toes of the leather boots, keeping her red polished fingers behind the nape of her neck.


“Staff sergeant! I'm so sorry for what have I done! I deserve to be here, I deserve to face justice!“ she halfway said, halfway wept.


Zara smiled, and pushed Geraldine’s face up with gloved fingers. Yes, there is a flicker of real pleasure behind the sadistic smile. This one did love adoration.


“No, lesbian whore, you are not 'sorry'. You do not even know the meaning of the word. But by the Führer, by the time we reach Neptune, you will know what it is to be 'truly 'sorry. You will have begged for death over and over. And who knows?“ She smiled sharply “Perhaps you will be one of the lucky ones, who actually gets to die….“


Listening to Zara's words Geraldine's face froze in horror.


Battleship Prien, the living hell for nazis' prisoners

Authors: Noemi Salvadge & Mister Johnson

Author's emails: Noya2929 [at] gmail [dot] com)

Tags: M/f, M/f+, F/f, F/f+, F+/f+, interracial, modification, snuff, Tit Torture, feet, slavery, bondage, real, torture, nc, Extreme, Scifi



III. Chapter - Frustrated angels

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If you knew Magda Stross, you would know that this was a very bad day to get on the wrong side of her. Magda was very career minded. She could see herself as a station head in the Gestapo ‘Sexual Aberrations Unit’, enjoying a nice little posting in Milan, or Philadelphia, or Paris. There was no room in her future for children. And Magda was one of those women who couldn’t even stand being an auntie. The idea of having some useless parasitic life form growing inside her and ruining her future – Christ, that was repugnant.


Of course, contraception was illegal in the Third Empire. Even a serving office like Magda would be in very serious trouble if she were found with condoms, or birth control pills. The only way of legally avoiding pregnancy was through abstinence. Magda had just looked at her ovulation cycle chart, and compared it with the duty roster for the crew of the Günther Prien. To her horror, she discovered that when her boyfriend was off duty, she was usually on, or – on those rare occasions they were off together – she would be at the most fertile part of her cycle.


In other words – she was going to have the sex life of a nun until they reached Neptune. The best she could hope for was that Otto might go down on her, but Otto was a Major in charge of the ships laser cannons – and he was that subtle in bed. His rare efforts at cunnalingus usually left her frustrated and even bruised.


“Fuck, shit, buggery, crap, bollocks!” she yelled.


Magda opened her personal hygiene kit and took out her 'neck massager', a bulbous, bulky instrument that vibrated pitifully when she turned it on. Sex toys were not illegal in the Third Empire, but they were certainly frowned upon. As a result, this was about the best she could risk bringing aboard. She dreamed of things like a ‘rampant rabbit’, or anything that would stimulate the G spot at the same time as the clit. She tapped the device on the desk and turned it off.


“It looks like it’s you and me for the next six weeks. How wonderful,” she moaned sarcastically.


Magda finished dressing in her uniform and fluffed out her blonde hair, No regulation bun today. She was incredibly pretty, with a small, straight nose, and huge blue eyes that gave her a doll like charm. She also seemed quite naive – those who knew her would not be fooled. Anyone meeting her for the first time might take her for an innocent, slightly dumb blonde. They would learn the truth quickly enough, generally in ways that left them hoarse with screaming.


Still looking in the mirror, she lit herself a cigarette, holding it between black-gloved fingers and blowing the smoke out through tight little nostrils.


How to play this?


She wasn’t going to start off like a bitch today – that would come later. They had assigned her Special Action for the one of two captive lesbians and she was going to have a little bit of fun, before inflicting true horror.


Inhaling deeply, she saw her wicked smile in the mirror.


Oh yes, fun indeed. If she couldn’t have sex for six months, someone was going to suffer for it…


Zara had already gone into the next door cell when Magda arrived. Normally they would have had a coffee and a smoke out at the detention desk. Magda peeked into the older lesbo's cell through the one-way peep window, the prisoner was on her knees wearing the experimental outfit, and she seemed to be worshiping Zara's boots. Magda smiled, for some reason she really enjoyed working with Zara - they seems to know exactly how to play off each other. She finished off her cigarette, threw it onto the floor, and ground the toe of her polished jackboot over it. A quick squirt of breath freshener – it never hurt that when you were close to one of these deviants, you could whisper fragrantly to them. Then she picked up the restraining harness and entered Ingrid’s cell.


The girl was lying on the floor. The drugs were wearing off now. She was semi conscious, still slightly groggy. Magda knelt beside her, cleared the hair away from her face and took a pulse. A healthy one, that was good. On one trip, they had lost half their captives within a week, all dead from pain and shock. This one could take a lot. And she was going to have to. No sex for six weeks! Christ!


She lifted the disgusting black robe and had a look at the girls body. Long hair – far too long. Horrible nails. Very long with pale translucent pink base and whitened tip, almost natural but reflecting depravity. The style was said to have originated among French whores. Women of the Third Empire normally wore red, white or translucent polishes, but young cunts liked to be extreme. And you could bet those perky little tits could be made to sit up and beg with the right underwear. What a disgusting little tart, Magda thought, why would an intelligent woman throw her life away for such a little slit? Still, she’s young, and I’ll bet she ends up as a breeding unit.


It was time to bring the little cunt round fully. Gently, Magda stroked her cheek until the girl began to stir. Then she smiled angelically, and ‘ssshhhhd’ her. Ingrid received the full blast of those huge blue eyes. Struggling with nausea, she finally managed to focus her sight, and despite how miserable she felt, staring into those deep blue eyes brought her some relief. Her head was throbbing like little gnomes were hammering it from inside trying to break her temples into small splinters. Fortunately the angelic pair of ocean-like eyes were smiling at her with warmth and friendship. Ingrid raised her long nailed index fingers to her temple and rubbed her head to gain some relief.


“Ohhh shit... what happened? I had some a crappy dream...“ she moaned as the awful headache slowly disappeared. Only then - after she finally regained enough of her consciousness to put pieces together - her eyes suddenly filled with visible fear.


“Fuck! Noooo!“ she yanked her pretty head up and looked around. The sight of the tight, cold cell helped her to regain all her memories within a second.


“No! Is this a prison? Am I going to be tortured here?!“ Ingrid shouted in a trembling voice. Then she stared into Madga's face with such terrified eyes, the Gestapo girl found it hard to hide her gloating thoughts or resist bursting into cruel laughter. Ingrid had a thin and high pitched voice, really girlish and at the same time rather annoying. I’m looking forward to hearing it scream.


“It's all right, Sweetheart. You’re on board a ship, not in a torture cell. Don’t try and move too much. There, that’s better.”


She helped the girl sit upright. Ingrid's motions were still unstable, her frightened eyes darting back and forth. Trembling, she grabbed Madga's helping arm like she never wanted to let it go. Crouching beside her, smiling encouragingly, Magda continued:


“Let me tell you where you are – you are on board the battle ship Günther Prien. And you are heading for a colony in the outer rim. Now, don’t panic, here’s the good news – your ‘lover’ – Geraldine - is on the ship with you. When you get to the camp, you are going to be married off to a colonist. That means, probably a miner. He’ll be underground for weeks at a time. So you and Geraldine will be keeping house, raising children, and you can spend a lot of time together. It’s not freedom, little one, but it’s better than you would have on Earth. You can stay together.”


“On a spaceship, heading to the outer rim? In space? You mean like - space, which is just dark and cold?“ the girl blurted out the questions, not pausing to think. Her mind was still confused enough that she needed time to fully absorb what she was being told.


“Does this mean I can never return home? I can never see Mom and Dad again? But I can be together with Dina? But we were taken by policeman! We were arrested, we were roughly torn apart! How could I see her again? We were arrested for being lovers, weren't we?“ the girl kept on asking and asking. She tried to grab the closest, the most important and most desired element of all that she had to get through this. Losing freedom, losing planet Earth, losing her parents and all the dreams she had for her life. She was just promised force marriage with a miner; the picture of a hairy, dirty, grunting man came into her mind. The only positive thing she was heard that her teacher and lover, the devoted and sweet Dina was around here, so she clutched that last straw.


Magda smiled, nodding encouragingly.


“Do you understand, Ingrid? You committed a crime, yes, but there are those on this ship who do not see lesbianism as that great an offence against the Empire.“ Now she leaned forward and on the pretext of brushing some more hair over the girl’s ear, she whispered “You have to remember – a lot of the staff on this ship are women – there’s not quite enough men to go round. I mean - I can't have sex with a man for six weeks, so what am I going to do? Hm? Look at it that way.”


Ingrid's frightened eyes became surprised, they grew even bigger than they were before. She slightly shook her pretty head. The new information seemed to be a bit too much for her. And Magda patted the girl’s hand. Even if the leather glove felt strange over her skin the angelic woman's kindness and her pleasant breath felt so good. Ingrid involuntarily licked her lip.


“So, I can arrange for you to see Geraldine. Would you like that?


“Yes please, arrange that please! I would be so happy to see Dina!“ Ingrid replied with a grateful smile and she slid her other hand onto Magda's, cradling the gloved fingers between her palms.


“Good, I thought you would. Now, there is just one thing – every time a prisoner leaves a cell they have to be properly dressed. There are cameras watching. It would be – “ she sought for the words “It would be embarrassing if you walked out as you are, so I need you to change. Into this, I’m afraid.”


With an air of embarrassment, she handed Ingrid a garment that was very much the same as Geraldine’s, except perhaps a little newer. It smelled of polished leather. Ingrid looked at the outrageously naughty piece of sophisticated leather strips, and the blood ran out of her face. Magda laughed, but reassuringly, like - this was all just a silly game.


“It’s all right, it looks a bit strange, but it’s just a restraint harness, you see where we can attach cuffs and things? Nothing more than that. Go on.”


“But... this looks like a... this is so embarrassing.“ Ingrid whispered as she held the harness between her slender fingers, unable to really understand why was that needed at all.


“I have seen some dirty movies, when we were in North America. My Dad hid them in his working desk. Inferior women wore things like this in those films while dozens of men, even monkey niggers fucked them for hours...“ Ingrid moaned but slowly climbed to her feet and started to check how to get into the harness.


“Let me help you with that – there’s a knack to it. I’ve got to say – it’s such a bloody stupid outfit. But you know what senior officers are like. Everything has to be done by the book.”

She helped the girl dress herself and did the fastenings at the back where help was needed to reach them. It had a very similar effect on her shape as it did on the older woman’s – and yes, those tits were definitely sitting up and begging. Ingrid put on a show for Magda. She was slightly ungainly as her body was writhing while twisting her limbs to find the right holes between the strips, but at the same time she managed to move in a surprisingly erotic way. She was thin, not a single gram of fat was around her waist or thighs, but her breasts were proud and shapely, the harness highlighted them dramatically. Her pussy was smoothly shaved, only a small triangle of hairs adorned it, and her inner labias were really large, thin but protruding. Ingrid wouldn't admit that, not even to herself, but the harness - and the fact she was instructed to put the kinky looking thing on in front of the beautiful SS officer – these things excited her. As always, her subconscious cravings appeared in her motions.


As Magda watched the girl arrange the supporting straps around her tits, she was thinking to herself:  I can’t wait for you to meet my pet fish. She shivered as she imagined tiny, razor sharp teeth, slicing into that creamy flesh, those small, coffee brown nipples. The girl shrieking with the inhuman pain. Geraldine watching...

Magda took a moment to recover herself and to fix that angelic smile back into place.”


“Right, one more thing.”


She produced a rubbery leather hood. There was a gap for the eyes, another for the mouth and two little holes on either side of the head. Her hair would be pulled through these into cute little bunches.


“Quickly bunch your hair up into pigtails and we’ll put this on you. Another regulation, just in case we meet other prisoners in the corridor. We don’t really want them to know who we have here. But it will be fine; you just have to trust me.”


Ingrid looked dumbfounded, the third times at least within twenty minutes. The leather hood was weird.


“Are you sure this is needed? I mean... I'm not so ugly or something and this doesn't look too comfortable.“ Ingrid said as she finally completed the finishing touches on the harness. Magda gave her a squeeze, and chuckled a little.


“Oh sweetheart, of course you're not ugly, you're beautiful! But we have cameras out there and - well, secrecy is important. This is so hard for you, I know, but it will be much better than it seems, I promise.”


The girl quickly did as ordered, twirling her hair into little bunches and pulling on the hood.


Magda gave her a cheeky little grin, as if doing something she shouldn’t - something terribly naughty.


“I have to say, you look very kinky. Criminal of course, but very kinky. Put your hands behind your back. All right. In a minute, I’ll take you into a room where you’ll be able to see Geraldine, and I hope, you’ll be able to touch each other as well – I might be able to arrange that, it all depends who’s in there with her, but I’ll do my best. OK sweetheart?”


“Oh, okay, sure. I mean, I'm really not in the mood to do anything, you know, kinky or something. But thank you... anyway. I just, I just want to see her, to talk with her. I'm really worried about her, she must be really frightened.“ Ingrid replied, her voice became slightly strange as the hood's mouth hole blocked a bit the movement of her jaws. She felt strange.


Technically naked and her face even hidden, accompanied by a beautiful, extremely sweet girl. The kind and helpful nazi woman forgot to introduce herself, but Ingrid has other concerns in her mind. Actually, despite the seriously seeming situation, she felt aroused. And halfway happy too. Her rational mind was still frightened and worrying about the situation, but her other, reckless and emotionally driven half kept saying; “I can see Dina! I’m soon going to be with Dina! And this blonde is such a beauty – shit, she hinted something about the lack of males around. Can she be the same as us? Would Dina understand if we have a third girl with us sometimes?“


And Magda cuffed the girl’s hands behind her back, running leather gloved fingertips down the smooth length of her arms, feeling their shuddering response. She moved her lips quickly against the girl’s neck, smelt behind her ear. Not too surprisingly Ingrid let out an almost completely silent but excited sigh.


“You are delicious. I can understand why Geraldine fell for you. I think the two of you belong together, I really do.”


Battleship Prien, the living hell for nazis' prisoners

Authors: Noemi Salvadge & Mister Johnson

Author's emails: Noya2929 [at] gmail [dot] com)

Tags: M/f, M/f+, F/f, F/f+, F+/f+, interracial, modification, snuff, Tit Torture, feet, slavery, bondage, real, torture, nc, Extreme, Scifi


IV. Chapter - Double trouble

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Ingrid and Magda, in that order, left the detention cell. Identical cell doors lined the long corridor's left side as they passed by, the only difference being the huge numbers above the peek holes. Ingrid's cell was number sixteen and was located almost at the end of the line. Altogether twenty cells were housed in the Prien's prison block. Magda knew all of them were occupied. All military ships' compliment of ‘disposable’ humans were maintained at the maximum level. Most of the prisoners were males, resupply for the outer rim's mining stations, but six of them held condemned women, like the almost naked, wiggly assed Ingrid in front of her. The corridor was illuminated by sharp, white light, every single spot was tidy and antiseptic. Completely dumb cleaning autodrones traversed the ship and collected all the waste 24 hours per day. Sometimes the male prisoners were also used for such purposes, combining their daily health walks with some useful labour. It was so clean you could eat your dinner from it and sometimes - for a variety of reasons, sometime to do with being on a leash like a pet - prisoners had to do just that.


The corridor's metal floor was cold under Ingrid's soles, an unpleasant sensation, but the experience of seeing a real spaceship from inside overwhelmed her other concerns. Whilst Ingrid's naked footfalls were silent, Magda's high leather boots clicked with every step, the sound reverberating across the echoing corridor. Magda couldn't ignore Ingrid's feet. Her toenails wore a similar design to her hands, and they were longer than normal. The girl was a typical example of young generation's immorality. In Hitler Jugend camps and in Navy Academies such depravities were strictly prohibited. Ingrid seemed to personify a whole army of blameworthy weirdness.


“I love your nails. Very daring.”


“Really?“ Ingrid looked back over her shoulder and smiled, though her smile seemed to be rather monstrous, only her white teeth showing from the circle hole at her mouth. Like - some kind of alien.


“I like my piggies too, I mean - I like them be sexy too.“ she said and almost giggled, the walk on the corridor of a real spaceship turned her into a fearless child. It was as if she was in an amusement park instead of a prison block. Magda shook her head. The teenage tarts brain seemed to be completely rotten.


At the end of the corridor they got through the triple security door which opened and closed by Magda's voice command as three shiny discs slid into each other making Ingrid sigh in surprise. They entered a circular room with benches around the edges and with another three sealed security door. Huge numbers were on the middle of the panels - 301, 302 and 303.


“What's this place?“ the girl asked and her suspicious gaze wandered from door to door.


“You’ll like this. There are all sorts of lovely things inside, a form of reward. We call them ‘recreation cells’. And she gave a sordid raise of the eyebrows. “Lots of toys to play with.“


“Recreation cells?“ Ingrid almost giggled, her mood getting better and better with every second.


“I never thought criminals could enjoy this kind of facilities! But to be honest, that cell is so small and cold, it’s fucking good to have a chance for some amusement,“ Ingrid told her happily. Magda stepped to door signed 301 and opened a small panel with the retina scanner behind. Voice can be recorded and replayed, but the second level security doors were all secured by safer identification procedures. The green laser blinded her for a split second, in the next the door slid into the wall. Magda motioned for Ingrid to go forward and the fetish dressed teenage girl entered the room...


...which was not exactly the recreation centre she was looking for.


“What the fuck is this?!“ she screamed out and froze as if she had been hit by a thunderbolt.


The room was already occupied by two people. One of them was a short haired young woman in the black uniform of an SS Staff Sergeant, but the other was Geraldine, her teacher and lover. To Ingrid's utter horror, Geraldine's face was a mask of agony.


The teacher was facing the door, forced into something like the extreme stretch ballerinas do before performances. She was almost lying face down, her legs open in V shape and her body almost flat between them, head facing the same direction as her soles and her head only some dozen centimetres higher than her ankles. The position was not a voluntary one. Her ankles and neck were forced into a vertical bar with holes in it, a mechanism controlled by a panel close standing close by.  Watching her arched back, Ingrid saw that her lover wore similar a harness to her own, Worse, her hands were pulled up by another metal bar and handcuffed into place, which must have added terrible pain to her shoulders. Geraldine's long fingers curled into painful grasp, the light catching the scarlet paint as they helplessly clenched and writhed.


“Dina! What's going on here?“ Ingrid screeched in her most desperate voice.


And the two Nazi girls laughed. Staying close behind her – stopping her from any attempt to turn and run - Magda whispered into the girl's ear:


“It’s exactly as I told you. This is a recreational cell. Just – not for prisoners. And like the pathetic, worthless cunt you are, you walked in here! Did you really think it was going to be that easy?”


Zara joined her comrade. She grabbed one of Ingrid's hair bunches, twisting it until the teenager winced. Painful grunts came from Ingrid's mouth but she was unable to tear her eyes from Geraldine's stretched body. 


“At least mine isn’t so stupid.”


“She’s still a degenerate.”


And Zara laughed. “Not for long…”


“Mine is young and healthy. I think she'll be the one that survives.“


“Don't be too sure - the one in the stocks is clever. She's already tried to convince me she's seen the error of her ways.“


Magda kicked Ingrid's knee joint from behind, forcing her to kneel down in front of her tortured lover. Then she lit a cigarette and blew smoke towards the ceiling.


“This one is worthless. I'm going to recommend she doesn't go into the breeding stock program - she might be an Aryan, but she's stupid, too. She actually thought I was like them. I could see her wiggling her little slit at me, as if it was something special.“ She considered as she inhaled. “We could let the crew have her. There’s a compliment of over five hundred on the ship. What do you think? Mass rape after dinner?“


Zara's mouth crinkled up as she considered.


“Yes, possibly. And Geraldine could watch.“


“Perhaps she could join in?“


Zara took her friends cigarette and shared a drag on it.


“How about this - they can service the entire crew between them - we'll tie the young one into a rape station, and every man who finishes with her can give her an electric shock - we'll start small, increase the charge as the total builds.“


“Shocks, or how about – longer and longer needles pushed into arbitrary places, or the same with heated sticks? There’s something very homely having a razier beside the rape station.” She smiled with pleasure, then her pretty eyebrows frowned. “Oh, Mind you, the last time we decorated a cunt with needles some of the guys lost interest. They complained there was too much blood, and some of them found it hard to get a stiffie. And the old bitch, what can we do with her? I know - we'll collect the spunk of every man she sucks off, and at the end, we'll fit a mask over her face and pour the cum down her throat,“ Magda said with a beautiful, childish enthusiasm.


“And drown her in jizz? Well, why not - it's worked before.“


Magda recovered her cigarette. She positioned herself so that the girl was between her and one of the cameras that would be recording their ordeal. She pushed Ingrid's head down, and crushed out the butt of her smoke on the girl’s neck. Ingrid's reaction was wild and intense, she strained against Magda and let out an ear piercing shrill. Her young, lithe body was writhing in Magda's grip. As the teenager screamed, the nazi just laughed.


“Grow up. If this is making you cry, you are in for a very uncomfortable few weeks.“


Geraldine tried to clear her thoughts, although with the building cramps all over her legs, that was not easy. Zara had brought her here not longer than ten minutes ago and she willingly positioned herself in the hideous looking device, but now she was at the edge of her tolerance. Geraldine did exercises at least three times every week and her body was limber, but the position she had to endure was far beyond the normal limits of her flexibility. She looked into Ingrid's tear filled eyes and tried to smile. The girl looked really weird in her leather hood, although the harness all over her body made her extremely sexy, those leather strips highlighted her ‘feminine mounds’. Geraldine felt as if her heart had been torn open. The sight of terror and fear in Ingrid's eyes was like having her chest stabbed with a glowing sword. The nazi women's easy chat also didn't help, the way they were discussing their plans sent shivers down Geraldine's spine. Not to mention the plan itself. She strongly - very strongly - hoped that the Nazis just wanted to intimidate them and those were not their real intentions.


“It's okay, my sweet Fairy, uhhh... it will be okay.“ she whispered and moaned, the muscles in her thighs pulsating harder and harder with every passing second.


“Dina! Ohhh Dina, I'm so sorry!“ Ingrid wept, her tears ran down her leather hood. A sharp flash interrupted their miserable whining. At the right side of the room a huge screen of two meters in diameter came alive.


The screen flickered for a moment, and then began to display the well-known A G Farben logo. It began with some establishing shots of it's Polish super-factory, and then cut to an attractive woman - clearly an actress, not a scientist, despite the white coat.


“Hello, and allow me to introduce you to a wonderful tool, given to you by the A G Farben Corporation. Anyone with an Access Rank below G should turn this off now and report their error to their supervisor…“


The film cut to a close up of the actresses grey eyes, and sexy eyebrows. A sordid smile caught one side of her pretty mouth “Unless you are a prisoner, and your interrogator is showing you this film, in which case - ooops!“ and she actually giggled.


There were more establishing shots of the factory, scientists working on chemical compounds, then finally, it cut back to the actress in sexy rubber protective gear, holding a tube up to the camera.


“You may wonder why I'm dressed up like a rubber deviant. Well, it's because of this wonderful chemical those great guys at A G Farben have invented - Firedance. Now, I'm a pretty broad minded sort of girl, but there is no way I'm going to let this near my skin.“ Another close up - she grinned at the camera as if this was a toothpaste commercial, “Ready? Here comes the science…“


The pictures changed. Now it was an animation of molecules and skin cells and - well, neither Ingrid nor Geraldine really knew what.


“Firedance works through the physical irritation of thermeoceptors, which are the heat sensitive nerve endings of human skin. It's effects last for approximately ten minutes. The substance continually leaks into deeper levels of skin. But it’s totally controllable. Cleaning the skin reduces the effects within one minute. No direct physical damage is caused, but the pain receptors - and the victim - will not be able to tell the difference.“


Quick cut to a lab experiment of a pretty girl with long, brunette curls, having Firedance smeared liberally across her breasts. The film had no sound, but after one minute, you could tell she was screaming and screaming.


“Test results indicate that although Firedance is not toxic, 5% of test subjects died from heart attacks or related allergic reactions. Subjects exposed to full body bath in a concentration over 10% all died within thirty minutes due to heart failure. Skin exposed to the substance over 10% for more than one hour loses its complete thermo sensing ability due to the complete destruction of the thermeoceptor nerves.“


Finally, the brunette arched her back and held a rictus pose, pain knifing through her. Then she gradually slumped back to the torture bench with a glazed expression.


The film ended.


Whilst their attention had been utterly fixed to the screen, Zara - the red haired Nazi - had been busy. She had replaced her uniform leather gloves with a pair of industrial rubber gauntlets, gleaming under the cells lights. In one hand she had a paint brush. And in her other hand was paint-pot sized container marked with a skull and crossbones. She placed this on the floor by Geraldine and prized off the lid. Then she dipped a brush into the substance and began swirling it around.


“You can't do this! This is insane! You can't do this to Dina!“ Ingrid screamed. For a moment she almost sounded strict and intimidating, but her outburst only drew derisive laughter from the Gestapo officers.


Magda stopped the girl wriggling by grasping one of her bunches.


“No, 'degenerate whore' there's no point asking the Staff Sergeant to stop. She has a job to do. But if you want to help your friend, you can.“


“I - I can? How?“


And the blonde gave her a slow, sadistic smile.


“Why do you think I left your mouth exposed? You may clean her feet with your tongue.“


“But - but…“


“Oh, that might hurt your pretty little lips? Yes, it says something about 'not for oral consumption' on the tin - but if your mouth is wet enough, you might be able to dilute the chemical. I imagine your mouth will feel like you have sucked off a flame thrower, but - well, the choice is yours.“


“What? You fucking psychos! You are both fucking out of your rotten bitchy minds, you cowardly - sickos!“ Ingrid was screaming hysterically now, losing control of her temper. Geraldine watched this completely terrified. The pain that waited for her was frightening enough, but Ingrid's insulting screams were bad. Very bad. She was sure that Nazi prison staff had plenty of methods to control their inmates, and those methods weren't going to be pleasant for her hot-blooded lover.


“Fairy!“ she shouted sharply into Ingrid's face. The tone made her stop.


“It will be okay, sweetie!“ she kept on shouting. That part was easy, the pain in her muscles and joints made her want to scream anyway. Ingrid stared back with those, big, teary, surprised eyes, and then gave a shallow nod. It seemed the hysterics were over.


“I can stand it. I will be okay, just stop using rude words! That makes this even worse...“ she continued in moaning voice, but at normal volume. Ingrid slowly nodded but her tears kept flowing.


“Staff Sergeant! I'm ready, just please, don't punish her, she doesn't know what she's saying.“ Geraldine forced her head sidewards to look at Zara.

Magda sneered.


“I do believe the cunt actually wants this.”


“She seems very keen to be punished. I think she’s looking forward to it.”


“In which case – we should not keep her in suspense.”


Zara squatted down, placing the small bucket under Gerladine's chin, in full view of Ingrid's horrified gaze. With a small brush Zara began to cover Geraldine's left sole. She used slow, delicate strokes, making sure that the whole base of the foot was coated. The teacher had rather big, size 39 feet, slightly bony although her toepads were soft and meaty. Her toes were long and slender, almost like fingers with cherry red paint applied to the carefully trimmed, wide nails at the tips. Her soles were slightly dirty, black dirt stuck against the wrinkles on her soles, she hadn't wore any shoes since she was arrested in her home. The Firedance was a translucent and rather thick liquid, almost like melted wax, but with confident brush strokes Zara smeared it over her soles, even covering the top of her toes within twenty seconds. This didn’t look like the first time she had applied the noxious chemical to a helpless victim.


“At this stage, it probably feels soothing and quite nice. That’s why I like Firedance – that sense of anticipation. But they know it’s going to get worse.”


The liquid was cold. Geraldine shivered and wiggled her long toes, but apart from the chill she did not feel anything. With her face only inches away from her foot she could follow every careful stroke made by the brush. Very soon her left foot was gleaming like it had been coated in wax.


“How long was that?“ Zara asked Magda, who replied in her loveliest voice:


“Almost one minute. The show is about to begin,“ She added with a sweet eagerness. Zara took her bucket and cleared away, just as the first surprised yelp escaped from Geraldine's mouth. Her left leg began to jerk. The involuntarily movement you expect when a when a body part touches something really hot. Her brow creased as she fought to control the growing pain.


“Ah, here we go,” Magda said with pleasure.


“Shiiiiiit thisss huuurrttssss!!“ Geraldine hissed between her teeth as her mouth stretched into a wide snarl. She desperately tried to blow air from her lungs directly to her sole, deforming her face funnily, like she was blowing a birthday candle.


“Phuuu... phuuuu... phuuu...“ her cheeks pulsated. And then it really started. Geraldine sucked in a lungful of air, her eyes widened as her body went rigid, every muscle tightened to the maximum. Immediately, sweat broke out on her forehead. Then it became too much to endure. She opened her mouth and let out an ear-piercing scream.


“Fuuuuuccccckkkk!! Buuuuurrrrrrnnnnsss!! Buuuuuuuurrrnnnnsss!!“ she screamed wildly and both of her legs started to tremble with uncontrolled motion. Her long toes wiggled like ten dying worms, she bent her arches up and down in vain attempt to get rid of that hellish thing burning her foot, and her long scream died away so slowly, but only after not a single molecule of air remained in her lungs. She sucked air in heavily and screamed again, while her wet looking toes never stopped their wild dance. Ingrid watched her lover's pain contorted face and surreal vivid moving toes, she had no idea what Geraldine felt, but the horrible evidence of that extraordinary pain almost deafened her.


“Dinaaaaa! Nooooo! My God nooooo!“ the teenager screamed too, the suffering teacher's sight blurred within the curtain of her tears. Second after second passed and Geraldine kept on screaming like a cave woman, her pitiful voice showing the agony she felt, no less than the way her willowy body wormed and writhed in the cruel stocks.


“Aaaaaaahhhhhhhh!! Hoooooooooot!! Toooo hooooooot!! I caaaaaaaan't!! Pleeeasssseeeeeeee!!“ the beautiful woman screamed. Tears appeared in her pain filled eyes. She gazed mesmerized at her wiggling left foot which suffered more and more.


Ingrid desperately wanted to do something to ease her lover’s pain. The problem was - she could see Dina's foot glistening with the repugnant slime, and she knew it was going to hurt. The way that foot was thrashing….


Finally, Geraldine could stand the pain no longer. She howled, knowing she was condemning her lover to share her agony.


“Ahhhaaaaaahhhhhaaaaaaa!! Tooooo hooooooooot!! Jessssussssssss!!“ poor Geraldine half screeched, half hissed, she ground her teeth with the tip of her tongue protruding between her jaws. Some fat drops of blood dripped onto her chin, showing that the excruciating pain had made her bite her tongue. With bloody lips, she turned to Ingrid, her eyes large like the moon and radiateing so much pain that only the most cold hearted monster could ignore them.


“Faiiiryyyyyy! Heeeelp meee! Shiiiiiiiiit!! My toooooeeeeeeeessssss!! Heeeeeeeeeeeelp! Caaaaaaaaaan't staaaaaaaaaaaand!! Aaaaaooooohhhhhhhhhhhh!! Heeeeeeeeeeeelp!“ Geraldine whined pitifully. Her fingernails cut into her palms high above her body and her glistening toes never stopped wiggling.


Ingrid cried, but then knew what she must do. Well, it was less conscious and more instinctive reaction, she just simply needed to save the woman she loved. She pushed her face forwards and began to lap at Dina's foot. Her skilful tongue followed the path of the brush, around the soft pads, between the elegant toes, along the shimmering red nails. It was not the first time she's worshipped those feet, but …


Already, she could feel herself reacting. For one thing, Firedance was disgusting, it tasted of rotten Garlic. Metallic, nauseating. But she kept going. She worked her jaw and tried to dribble saliva down the sole of Geraldine’s foot. The teacher’s feet were always tasty, sometimes she even loved to suck at them when they were slightly sweaty, that odour normally made them even more appealing. Not this time, the awful taste of the thick, jelly like substance totally took over the savour.


Behind her, one of the Nazi bitches chuckled.


“I wonder if that tickles?“


Ingrid ignored it. She kept licking. All down the sole of the left foot, into the arch. She slobbered, sucked, licked, her pink tongue was darting from the black rubber mask, laving the arch, the instep, feeling the texture of the skin as it crinkled around the heel…


And started to scream.


And Ingrid's tongue felt like it was on fire, burning through to the core. She closed her long-lashed eyes - if the damage to her mouth was as bad as this pain, she would have nothing left in there but char blacked skin and white bone. Tears trickled down the mask and also ran onto Geraldine’s feet, trickling down between the toes, which still thrashed in spastic agony. Geraldine gazed at her lover, the leather masked face was so close to hers, the pink tongue was doing its work with great enthusiasm. Ingrid's face remained hidden under the hood but her squeals left no doubt how much agony she was in. Geraldine kept on screaming and crying, although the agony felt to be slowly decreasing. She couldn't imagine what Ingrid felt, and as her mind was slowly cleared she started to feel heart breaking remorse. And love, such a deep love. Ingrid, her crazy but innocent lover had just sacrificed herself to save Geraldine, risking her sanity and even her life. Some of the teardrops kept on flowing originated not only from pain, but from emotion.  


Their joint torture seemed to last for hours. Ingrid's mouth throbbed and her throat tightened, more with the disgusting taste than anything else. Geraldine feet still wriggled and moaned, but Ingrid had managed to take the peak of the agony away.


Finally, Magda pulled on Ingrid's pig tails and hauled her back from Geraldine. Automatically, the tongue was still extended and lapping. The nazi pushed it back into her mouth with a gloved finger, chuckling.


“That was magnificent, 'fairy' - I hope that if I was ever in this situation, someone would do that for me. Can't speak? No, poor Geraldine is having a few problems too. All that pain - after all - you were a little slow, it's almost as if you don't really love her?“


Those big, baby blue eyes looked sadly at Ingrid. Then she laughed, again the angel.


“Oh, but we know that's not true. And you can show her. You can give her a nice big kiss.“


“Whahaout?“ Ingrid asked back, though her the simple word “what“ sounded like she was talking with a burning ember on her tongue. The feeling she had was not far away from that image, her mouth, her tongue, her lips and even the interior of her nostrils were burning inhumanly. Poor Ingrid kept her mouth wide open, her tongue rolled over the lower jaw and she was sucking in the air loudly, loud hissing sounds filled the air as her young lungs were working like a smith's bellows. Sucking in the cool air was an instinctive reaction. In reality it did not ease her pain, but else could she have done?


“Csaaann'th ksisss, csaaann'th...“ she moaned as the tip of her pink tongue started to rub against the edge of her healthy teeth. Another desperate attempt to remove some of the Firedance from its surface. It seemed to have some effect - a fat drop of the thick substance rolled slowly from her upper lip down, along her chin.


But the nazi girls would not be denied their fun. Zara produced a strange leather item - it looked like two wire 'O' gags linked together - one would fit around Ingrid's head, one around

Geraldine's, and once they were secured, neither would be able to move their mouth away from the other.


“We call this the 'kissing gag'. I hope you like it - you'll be wearing it for hours…“


Zara knelt and fitted the first leather strap around Geraldine's head. Some of Geraldine's toes still made sudden wiggles from time to time, her whole body was covered in sweat and her face was still a mask of agony. She was too weak to offer much resistance, nothing except a few now whispered peas for 'mercy'. These were stilled as her tormentor adjusted the wires to force her jaws open. Then Magda forced Ingrid forward. She looped the other half of the gag around her head, but with so much slack that her mouth was a good six inches from her lovers. Their terrified eyes met. Ingrid's eyes were crazy from the intolerable burning all around her mouth, her eyelids trembling wildly and she was squeaking in such a high pitched voice it was barely audible. Geraldine did her best to force a smile onto her face. It became rather odd, but it was amazing she could manage a smile at all.


“Come on, Fairy!“ Geraldine whispered and looked deep into Ingrid's eyes.


“My turn to ease your pain.“ she said, her words were immediately followed by some tears. Geraldine was far too terrified to be able to hide her true feelings. The skin of her foot still felt like they had been anointed with freshly poured molten tar, and she couldn't imagine how it would feel inside her mouth. But the kiss was inevitable, and Geraldine needed to keep Ingrid's love. She was not sure if she would have kissed the student if she had been given a choice, nor if Ingrid would have done that again for her after experiencing the

Firedance's pain, but there were no “ifs“. They were to kiss.


“Ah, how romantic.“ Zara commented sarcastically.


Then - slowly, playfully - she tightened the strap. Inch by inch, Ingrid’s lips and tongue, still dripping with Firedance - were pressed towards Geraldine’s. When they were forced to kiss, the pressure was kept on. They could turn their heads slightly so that their teeth did not collide and this took on the shape of a true, romantic kiss.


It took a little while, but soon - very soon - the chemical was transferred from Ingrid's mouth to Geraldine’s. The smothered screaming started.


“This is worse, of course, because the membranes of the tongue are so full of nerves,“ Zara commented, offering Magda a cigarette.


“Of course. Do you have light?“


By then, Ingrid and Geraldine were screaming into each other’s mouths, wriggling desperately, trying to break free. The gag held them immobile in their kiss.


Zara lit Magda's cigarette. Then they circled their victims and watched the show.


“I said they belonged together,“ Magda laughed.


Geraldine's world exploded. The first seconds of kissing Ingrid were almost pleasant, though she never felt her lover's lips so rigid and lifeless, but as soon as the burning overwhelmed her oral cavity living hell arrived for her. She tightly shut her eyes and screamed into Ingrid's mouth, who replied with her squeaks and high pitched whining. Geraldine's throat was sore and her sound was hoarse but still strong enough to fill the torture chamber, though the rest of her volume died in Ingrid's throat and gullet. The teacher, unlike Ingrid, was bound so tightly that she had no space to do anything beyond the inhuman screaming, but Ingrid's body was actually free. Even if the forced kiss made it better for her, Geraldine's profusely drooling saliva washed away some Firedance, but Ingrid's instincts had driven her to move away, to get rid of the wet mouth that prevented her from sucking in the cool air.


With the help of her need, Ingrid yanked against Geraldine, involuntarily twitching her body, straining her neck against Geraldine's head and tugging viciously like a lasso-leashed wild horse. Her shapely body was worming around, her fingers were clamping and opening behind her back, finally she slid onto her belly and kicked wildly in futile attempt to tear herself away. Geraldine's neck was stretched to its maximum, she kept on shrieking wildly, spitting some gobs of Firedance into Ingrid's throat. Her windpipe was pushed against the edge of the cruel metal holding her head in place. The women's teeth collided against each other then bit into each other's lips, but the “kissing gag“ held them tight.


The infernal kissing spiced up with screaming and fighting went on for long, long minutes, until the Firedance's effect started to die away. Ingrid calmed down enough not to tug on Geraldine’s overstretched neck. Soon the lesbians were heavily panting into each other’s mouths, a few drops of blood painted their tortured lips red. Their eyes opened, still wild, teary, radiating horror, remorse and pain. After the burning cooled down enough not to be in constant agony Geraldine stuck her tongue out, slid it into Ingrid's mouth and licked along the interior rucks behind the girl's lips.


“Sssssshhhhhhh,“ she moaned directly into Ingrid's mouth.


“You saved me. I love you.“ she whispered silently and rubbed the tip of her nose against Ingrid's.


The Nazi girls unstrapped their victim’s heads and helped the two women to their feet. Geraldine found it hard to stand and was obliged to hop. Magda unlaced Ingrid’s hood and exposed her pretty face, all sweaty and blotchy from her torture session, which was somehow quite appealing, like – like a horse having been exercised.


“Well, ladies, that’s enough by way of introduction, “ Zara laughed. “I hope we weren’t too soft on you, but – well, if we wanted to kill you quickly, we would have used the Joy Machine. Good torture is like – cooking – it takes a certain amount of time. Just remember, this will not be our last session together.”


Zara pushed Geraldine towards the cell door, ignoring the fact she screamed each time she had to walk. Magda considered for a moment, then shook her head.


“No, not you. I’m not quite finished with you.”


She took Ingrid by the elbow, leading her across to a mechanical looking torture horse. She laid the girl across it and fastened leather cuffs around her feet and wrists, using the electronic controls to make sure that her buttocks and thighs were exposed. Then she selected a riding crop from the whips in the wall rack.


“And what are you up to?”


Magda tested the whip, then took off her jacket, throwing it across a chair. In her gleaming white blouse and black leather gloves, she looked even more beautiful. Corn gold hair streamed over her collar and down her back.


“I’d going to take a little exercise. Half an hour beating the shit out of Ingrid should work up a good appetite for lunch.”


“Don’t forget, we have that ‘cross Empire technical exchange’ lecture to attend.”


Magda nodded, then toyed with the controls slightly, widening the splay of her Ingrid’s legs and leaving her pussy even more exposed than before.


“No, I won’t forget. Half an hour playing with my toy, quick shower, fresh uniform and lunch. I’ll be there on time.”


Zara shook her head and laughed.


“All right. Just don’t be late. Tromeller is angry enough about having this Jap on the ship. Latecomers will be sent to the Joy Machine.”


And she pushed Geraldine out of the door, back towards her cell.


Magda knelt down in front of the helpless, shivering girl. She brushed a gloved fingertip across her face, enjoying the terror she could see in those eyes.


“Do you remember what I said at the start of our session? That I was not going to be able to have sex with my boyfriend for six weeks? That’s quite true. But I don’t want you to worry about me. I have a very good substitute. Inflicting pain on beautiful women. Somehow, that fills the void. A little. “ she knelt closer and whispered “Between you and me, I’ve even been known to cum during a good torture session, but it has to be quite intense. So, I’m going to use this crop to warm you up, and then we shall see – perhaps the electrified needles? Perhaps I’ll anoint your clit with Firedance? Or perhaps I’ll just choke you to the point of death and see how long I can keep you there? Let’s see if I can hurt you enough to achieve my own hands-off orgasm, hm?”


Then she stood up and walked behind Ingrid, trailing the crop along her smooth buttocks, enjoying the responsive shiver and the girl’s tears.


“Look on the bright side though – you only have to endure half an hour. Any more than that, and I’ll miss my lunch.”


A moment later, she raised her arm and began Ingrid’s second journey to hell.

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