Tender Flesh for the She-Devil of Prague

[Naraku]

This is my homage to those Men's Adventure magazines my father kept hidden in the garage that did so much to warp my pre-pubescent self into the pervert I am today. I'll post Part One tonight and the rest in the coming days.

Tender Flesh for the She-Devil of Prague​

by​

Naraku​

The Handley Page Halifax bomber flew through the night sky above occupied Europe. An hour earlier, it had broken off from the rest of the bomber stream. Those planes were headed for Pilsen to drop their lethal payloads on the Skoda factory. But, aircraft “J for Jimmy” carried no bombs. It’s mission tonight, as it veered off to the southeast, was to deliver something that might, perhaps be more valuable to the Allied war effort.

Flight Sargent John Douglass sat in the empty bomb-bay. He was not alone. Across from him sat another person. Sargent Douglass did not know who it was. He could tell it was a woman, despite the unfaltering quilted flight suit and parachute pack that hid her figure. He had caught a brief glimpse of her face before she snapped on her oxygen mask so he knew she was young and pretty. A bit of hair sticking out from the edge of her flight helmet told him she was blond. Beyond that, the Sargent knew nothing. She hadn’t spoken a word during the entire flight. Douglass did not know her name or her nationality and he certainly did not know why she was aboard his plane tonight. But, this wasn’t the first flight he and his crew mates had made for the Special Operations Executive; Britain’s secret army that carried out missions of espionage, sabotage, and who knew what else deep within enemy territory. Whoever she was, Sargent Douglass knew that this young woman was about to embark on a mission more dangerous than any he had ever flown.

The voice of Pilot Officer Walker crackled over the Sargent’s head set. They had descended below 8,000 feet and begun their run to the drop zone. The Sargent removed his oxygen mask and flipped a switch that turned off the white light in the bomb-bay and turned on a red one. The red light would allow the passenger’s eyes to adjust to the darkness.

“Fifteen minutes, Miss.”, the Sargent said.

The woman nodded and removed her own mask and put on a pair of goggles. The two of them resumed their silent vigil.

Minutes later, the headset crackled again. “It’s time, miss.” the Sargent announced. He helped the woman to stand and made sure her parachute was secured. Then, he pulled a lever and the bomb-bay doors swung open. He stood beside the woman, and noticed for the first time that she was a bit taller than average. A green light came on and he tapped the woman on the shoulder. She hopped forward and disappeared into the pool of darkness beneath them. Sargent Douglass pulled the lever to close the doors and called over the intercom, notifying Walker that the package had been delivered and they could begin their hazardous journey home.

 

[Naraku]

Elizabeth Nolan fell into the night. She counted to ten, then pulled the ripcord on her parachute. To her great relief, the olive-drab canopy opened above jerking her upward. After hours with the drone of the Halifax engines filling her ears and then the rush of wind as she fell; there was total silence. The darkness and the silence reminded her how alone she was, and how endangered.

She had been born in London twenty years earlier. Her father was an English subject, an executive with a British pharmaceutical company. Her mother was Czech. They had met in Prague when he was head of the company’s Czechoslovakian branch. Growing up, she had learned Czech from her mother and the family often visited her mothers relatives in Czechoslovakia. When Chamberlain sold out the Czechs to obtain “peace in our time”, her parents had helped her mother’s family emigrate to England.. And, when the war began two years later, Elizabeth immediately offered her services to British intelligence.

In March 1942, the SOE and the Czech resistance pulled off one of the greatest exploits of the war by assassinating Reinhardt Heydrich, Himmler’s second in command and the brutal governor of Nazi occupied Czechoslovakia. But, the victory came at a heavy price. The assassins, along with many of their associates in the Resistance and hundreds of innocent Czechs had been killed or shipped off to concentration camps. Now, the SOE’s organization in Czechoslovakia was in a shambles.

Because of her background, her fluency in the Czech language, her familiarity with Prague, her courage and her intelligence; Elizabeth had been tapped to go alone into the heart of Nazi Europe and reestablish a network in Prague.

This was the heavy burden being cared by the young woman drifting earthward through the moonless night. She had made eight night jumps during her training, but that didn’t make this less terrifying. She could see nothing below her and the thought occurred to her that her mission might be ending before it began. Then, a small flash of light to the left caught her eye. The tiny light blinked five times, then went out. Then it blinked three times. Then five. The pattern continued and Elizabeth’s heart lept with joy. It was the signal for her landing site.

Minutes later, she made a landing that her instructor would have approved of in a fallow field. As she gathered up her parachute, a figure came running toward her. A flashlight shown in her face then was turned to illuminate the face of its bearer. Elizabeth was shocked to see the smiling face of a boy who couldn’t have been more than twelve years old.

“Are you Rabbit?”, the boy asked.

“Yes,” a puzzled Elizabeth replied, “Are you really Sparrow?”

“No,” the boy laughed, as he helped Elizabeth with her chute, “That’s my father. He’s got a stomach virus so I came in his place. My name is Franz. Let’s hurry, I have a cart waiting.”

 

[Naraku]

After three days with Sparrow’s family at a farm near Holubice, Elizabeth boarded a train heading to Prague. She had clothing provided by Sparrow’s wife and identity papers provided by MI-6 forgers. As the train approached the city, she was feeling confident.

When she disembarked at the main train station, Elizabeth noted a large number of SS and police personnel standing about, eyeing the people coming and going. As she headed across the lobby toward the exit, she saw people being stopped and asked for their papers, seemingly at random. Sparrow told her to expect this; the Nazis had tightened security after Heydrich’s assassination. It was all routine and nothing to worry about, so she kept walking and avoided eye contact with the Germans.

Suddenly, she stopped as a large man in a Waffen-SS uniform stood in her path. “Papiere!”, he barked.

Elizabeth could understand and read German fairly well, though she was hardly fluent. To maintain her cover as a small town Czech girl, however, she had to fain ignorance. Still, every person in every country under the Nazi heel had had to learn some German words, especially the word for papers.

Obediently, Elizabeth pulled her papers from her purse and handed them over. The soldier looked at her identity card and then at the travel permit. He furrowed his brow at the second document, then waved over another SS man, this one with an officer’s shoulder braid, and handed him the papers. Elizabeth heard the first man say something about a name. The officer perused the documents briefly before telling the enlisted man, “Bring her”.

Elizabeth was grabbed by the left arm and hurried across the lobby. Though the station was crowded, no one looked at her. Everyone knew to avert their eyes, lest they draw suspicion to themselves.

Elizabeth soon found herself in a small office where the first SS officer exchanged hushed words with another, more senior officer. The senior man, holding the papers, looked Elizabeth over, then spoke in German which was translated into Czech (although Elizabeth didn’t really need a translation) by the other officer.

“You are Kristyna Makova, from Roztoky?”

“Yes sir.” Elizabeth replied trying to sound meek and confused.

“This travel permit was signed by Major Liebert of the 119th Infantry Regiment on November 4th this year?”

“Yes sir.”

The senior officer shook his head and clicked his tongue.

“That is a problem. You see, the 119th was transferred to Yugoslavia in October.”

Elizabeth felt the room crash in on her. The forgers of the SOE were brilliant, their documents were flawless. They were even careful to use the name of the correct officer for the Roztoky region. But, intelligence on the movements of this one particular regiment must have been a few weeks out of date.

The senior man handed the documents back to his subordinate with a smirk.

“Take her to Petschek Palace. I’m sure they can get to bottom of this.”

To be continued.....

 

[Barbaria1]

intriguing... looking forward to the next episode

 

[Madiosi]

The Handley Page Halifax bomber flew through the night sky above occupied Europe. An hour earlier, it had broken off from the rest of the bomber stream. Those planes were headed for Pilsen to drop their lethal payloads on the Skoda factory. But, aircraft “J for Jimmy” carried no bombs. It’s mission tonight, as it veered off to the southeast, was to deliver something that might, perhaps be more valuable to the Allied war effort.

 

[Madiosi]

Elizabeth Nolan fell into the night. She counted to ten, then pulled the ripcord on her parachute. To her great relief, the olive-drab canopy opened above jerking her upward. After hours with the drone of the Halifax engines filling her ears and then the rush of wind as she fell; there was total silence. The darkness and the silence reminded her how alone she was, and how endangered.

 

[Madiosi]

The tiny light blinked five times, then went out. Then it blinked three times. Then five. The pattern continued and Elizabeth’s heart lept with joy. It was the signal for her landing site.

 

[Madiosi]

When she disembarked at the main train station, Elizabeth noted a large number of SS and police personnel standing about, eyeing the people coming and going. As she headed across the lobby toward the exit, she saw people being stopped and asked for their papers, seemingly at random. Sparrow told her to expect this; the Nazis had tightened security after Heydrich’s assassination. It was all routine and nothing to worry about, so she kept walking and avoided eye contact with the Germans.

 

[Madiosi]

I fear, I must using again Little Caprice also as Betty.

 

[Jon Smithie]

Given the title and your opening statement that this is an homage to Men's Adventure magazines, I was expecting an intentionally overblown, overly dramatic style written as an erotic parody. But I think this is far more interesting. Nothing wrong with erotic parody, but personally, I hope you stay with this more straightforward, realistic style. I eagerly await the next installment.

 

[bobinder]

I fear, I must using again Little Caprice also as Betty.

Quite authentic, Madi - she was born in Prague.

 

[Naraku]

Part II

“Petschek Palace” was not really a palace. It was a massive neoclassical style building constructed in the Twenties as The Bank House Petschek and Co. Not long after the Germans took control of Czechoslovakia in 1938, the building was converted into Gestapo headquarters, soon becoming the most notorious and feared location in Prague. Aside from it’s intimidating size, the building had many features that made it desirable for the Gestapo. It had air conditioning throughout, a rarity at the time. It had a modern central switchboard and a pneumatic tube system. Of most interest to the Gestapo though, were the private safes in the basement. These they converted into cells and the larger rooms became chambers of horror for those unfortunate enough to attract the attention of the dread Nazi secret police.

It was here that Elizabeth was brought in the back of a military truck. Hustled through a backdoor with her hands cuffed behind her, she was taken downstairs, through locked and guarded doors and down the corridors of the basement to a small room. The room was Spartan. At the back there was a plain wooden desk with a phone, a lamp and a chair. A large but simple wooden table was against a side wall. Next to it was a smaller table and chair next to that. A box with wires and an electrical cord was on the table. A single overhead light lit the windowless room. The oddest and most frightening thing though, was a cable that ran from a pulley in the ceiling with a hook at one end and the other end attached to a wench on the far wall.

Elizabeth stood there between the two guards that had brought her, thinking over the details of the story she had formulated during the ride from the station, when the door behind her opened. The guards clicked their heels and raised their arms in the Nazi salute. Elizabeth turned to face the most extraordinary and frightening woman she had ever met.

Almost five foot ten, she was about an inch and a half taller than Elizabeth. She wore the black coat of an SS officer over a white shirt and black tie. The mannish garb did not conceal her feminine figure; in fact, it seemed to enhance it, emphasizing her large breasts and slender waist. Just as the black skirt and spit polished boots did nothing to hide her long, shapely legs and well rounded posterior. Her square face was surrounded by waves of blond hair. She looked as if she had come straight out of a propaganda post for the perfect Aryan woman. She wore little make-up, only a pink lipstick and a bit of rouge to enhance her high cheekbones. But the most striking, and terrifying, of all her features were her eyes and her smile. Her ice-blue eyes seemed to burn right into Elizabeth. And her smile, which seemed to be permanent, was anything but friendly. The slightly upturned corners of her pursed lips seemed more like the way a cat might smile while eyeing a mouse. Elizabeth was sure she knew who this woman was from her pre-mission briefings. This was SS-Sturmbannfuhrer (Major) Greta Kreuzer, the notorious She-Devil of Prague.

 

[Naraku]

Born in Vienna in 1911, little is known of Kreuzer’s early life except that her father died during WWI and she joined the Nazi party in 1932. What is known is that she managed to attract the attention of Heydrich, who recognized her dedication to the Party, her intelligence and her taste for cruelty. She soon became one of the Gestapo’s top interrogators and; when Heydrich was appointed Protector of Bohemia and Moravia in September 1941; she came along with him and began plying her trade in Petschek Palace. There were rumors that she and Heydrich were lovers, but only they knew the truth. There were also whispers that her sexual desires ran to both men and women. But, no one dared speak of these things openly.

As an interrogator, Kreuzer considered herself to be an artist. She abhorred the crude methods of her male counterparts, which mostly consisted of using a suspect as as a human punching bag until they either talked or died. She preferred more subtle methods that broke the subject’s will. Her techniques were usually successful and she especially enjoyed employing them on women.

A man had followed Kreuzer into the room. A tall, blond, muscular man in a white shirt and riding breeches. He removed Elizabeth’s handcuffs as Kreuzer walked over to the desk, sat on the edge and opened a manila folder.

“So,” she began, with a voice that had a chillingly friendly tone in heavily accented Czech, “You say you are Kristyna Makova?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Elizabeth replied as she rubbed her freed wrists.

Kreuzer took out the travel permit and scrutinized it under the desk lamp.

“This document is a forgery.” she said.

“I...” Elizabeth began. She had come up with a story she hoped would be convincing, To sell it, she would have maintain the right tone of naive innocence, “I know that now. I wanted to come to Prague. To look for work. There are no jobs in Roztoky. A friend got that for me. I didn’t know it was a forgery. I swear it, ma’am.”

“Well,” said Kreuzer, “If there is a forger in Roztoky that’s this good, perhaps the Gestapo should hire him. Eh, Fritz?”

The tall man standing beside Elizabeth chuckled. Kreuzer continued, “But, a work of this quality didn’t come from some small town forger. Something this good could only have come from London.”

Kreuzer put down the folder and walked over to Elizabeth, “You’re lying. You are not from Roztoky. You are not Kristyna Makova. You are an Allied spy. You are going to tell me who you are and why you are here. You can tell me now or you can tell me later. It is your choice. But, you will tell me.”

“I’m not a spy, ma’am. I am just a poor girl from Roztoky, I swear it.”

Kreuzer chuckled, “Of course. I would have been disappointed if you had come clean so soon. Now, we shall begin the game. Take off your clothes. Everything. From the hat to the shoes, down to the skin.”

Elizabeth hesitated.

“Fritz and these guards would be more than happy to help you, if you would prefer.” Kreuzer said in her menacing, cheerful tone.

Elizabeth knew she had no choice. She took off her coat, which was taken from her by one of the guards. Then her blue beret. Slowly, she unbuttoned and removed her blouse followed by her skirt. As she pulled off her slip, she became painfully aware of the gaze of the three men in the room. But, she also noted how Kreuzer was watching her with the same intense interest. She was leaning against the desk. Her smile had taken on an even more sinister curl. Her eyes were wide and her brows arched. She looked ready to devour Elizabeth.

Elizabeth paused. She had known what she might have to face if captured. It had been made clear to her during her training. She had been certain she could remain strong in the face of the most intense interrogation. But, now, half naked in a room with people from whom she could expect no mercy, she was afraid.

“Everything, schatzi,” Kreuzer purred, “Everything.”

Elizabeth kicked off her shoes then, with trembling hands, unhooked her garter and rolled down her stockings. The garter belt was next then she unhooked her d-cup bra and exposed her ample breasts. She quickly pealed off her panties then stood there, head lowered, with her left arm over her breasts and her right hand in front of her pubic mound.

“That’s better.” said Kreuzer, as she walked behind the desk and opened a drawer, “Fritz.”

 

[Naraku]

Fritz took hold of Elizabeth’s wrists and locked the handcuffs onto them in front. Meanwhile, one of the guards went to wall and began turning the wench, lowering the cable. When it was low enough, Fritz attached one of the middle links of the cuffs to the hook at the end of the cable. He nodded to the guard who cranked the wench back, pulling Elizabeth’s wrists upward. Her arms were soon fully extended and she was standing on the balls of her feet. Only then did the cranking stop.

“Schön.” said Kreuzer. She was approaching Elizabeth with a black riding crop in the right hand. In her left she had something that looked like a short razor strop which she handed to Fritz. “Sehr schön.”

Kreuzer stood in front of Elizabeth and began rubbing the hard leather tongue of the crop against her left nipple.

“This is your last chance, liebling. Are you going to tell us the truth?”

“I’ve told you the truth, madam, I swear it.”

Elizabeth had known, from the moment she was arrested, that she might wind up in a situation like this. She had been trained to resist torture and stick to her cover as long as possible. Only when she could take no more, would she break her cover and then, under no circumstance was she to give up information about her mission. She could admit to being a spy, but lives depended on her protecting the mission. And she was determined to do so now. But the fear in Elizabeth’s voice was no act.

Kreuzer smiled, as if she was pleased that Elizabeth was resisting, giving her an opportunity torture her.

She drew back the crop and with lighting speed, brought it crashing directly into Elizabeth’s right nipple.

The impact rang out like a gun shot. Elizabeth felt it all the way through her chest and, at the point of impact, it felt as if her nipple had been touched by a hot iron.

Elizabeth started to scream but was cut off by a sudden stinging blow to her buttocks. Fritz had smacked her hard across both cheeks with the strop. Kruezer followed up immediately with another blow from the crop, this time on the left nipple. That was followed by another blow from Fritz, then the crop struck the right nipple again.

The two Nazis worked in rhythm, Kreuzer would alternate from one nipple to the other while Fritz would hit Elizabeth’s arse between blows from the crop. Elizabeth wanted to scream, but there was no interval between blows and each one sent a new wave of pain through her body. The best she could do was gasp for air in the split second before the next impact.

To Elizabeth, it seemed like this beating lasted an hour. In reality, it was only for two or three minutes. Then, they paused. Kreuzer took hold of Elizabeth’s throbbing breasts and squeezed them. Through tear filled eyes, Elizabeth noted that both nipples and the surrounding area were a bright red. She was sure her burning ass looked the same.

“Now, liebchen, are you ready to talk?” Kreuzer asked.

“I’ve told you the truth,” Elizabeth sobbed, “I don’t know what else to say.”

“So brave,” replied Kreuzer, “and so foolish.”

Kreuzer released her breasts and swung the crop again. But, this time the target was not Elizabeth’s already sore nipples, but her dark blond pubic mound. The blow sent a new kind of pain through her nether regions. Fritz followed immediately with a stroke across her shoulders. Kreuzer then delivered two quick blows to Elizabeth’s left nipple, followed by the strop striking her buttocks.

The predictable pattern of before was abandoned as the two tortures seemed the strike randomly. Kreuzer would strike one nipple once, then the other twice, then the first one twice, then the pubis, then a nipple. Fritz would lay two blows on the buttocks, then one on the shoulders, then one to the butt, then the shoulder twice. Meanwhile, Elizabeth had no chance to do anything but give a short yelp and a gasp as she was besiege by alternating agonies.

 

[Naraku]

Again, the beating seemed to last hours to Elizabeth, but was only a few minutes. Then, it stopped.

“Whew,” said Kreuzer, as she loosened her tie and removed her coat, “This is hard work, isn’t it Fritz?”

“Jawohl, Sturmbannfuhrer.”, replied Fritz in a jovial tone, as Kreuzer walked behind Elizabeth.

Kreuzer reappeared in front of Elizabeth now holding the strop. Elizabeth was certain she was going to be beaten across the breast or belly or both. But, she felt Fritz grab her left ankle and raise her leg out to the side, exposing her female parts.

Kreuzer laid her hand on Elizabeth’s pussy lips and patted them gently. The gesture shocked Elizabeth and filled her with new fear.

“Please,” she whimpered, “I don’t know anything.”

Kreuzer only smiled. She removed her hand, the swung the strop with all her might. The strop landed with a deafening slap across Elizabeth’s crotch, delivering a whole new experience in pain. Elizabeth was given time to scream and she did. Then, there was a second blow and another and another. Elizabeth didn’t count the blows. All she could do was cry and scream and try futilely to pull her leg free of Fritz’s iron grip. Later, she would recall hearing a knocking and hushed voices somewhere beyond the haze of agony that was her world at that moment; but she wasn’t really aware of anything until, suddenly, the torrent of blows stopped.

A guard was whispering in Kreuzer’s ear. “Gott im Himmel!”, she exclaimed as she threw down the strop. And went to get her coat.

Fritz released Elizabeth’s leg. She hung from her cuffed wrists sobbing.

Kreuzer took hold of Elizabeth’s hair in one hand, leaning in close to her face.

“I’m sorry, schatzi, but we’re going to have to stop for now.” then, addressing the guards she said, “Take her to a cell. We’ll let her pain speak to her. Maybe it can change her mind.”

Kreuzer and Fritz left the room. The crank was turned and Elizabeth sank to the floor, unable to stand. The guards took hold of her by the arms and dragged her down the hallway. They deposited her on the floor of one of the converted vaults, a narrow room with a bare metal cot, a bucket and a caged light in the ceiling. Her clothes were throw on top of her and then the heavy steel door was slammed shut and bolted. Elizabeth lay on the floor, unable to move and began crying like a baby.

To be continued...

 

[Naraku]

The Handley Page Halifax bomber flew through the night sky above occupied Europe. An hour earlier, it had broken off from the rest of the bomber stream. Those planes were headed for Pilsen to drop their lethal payloads on the Skoda factory. But, aircraft “J for Jimmy” carried no bombs. It’s mission tonight, as it veered off to the southeast, was to deliver something that might, perhaps be more valuable to the Allied war effort.
View attachment 700540

Thank you all for the praise thus far and I hope you enjoy the latest installment.

Very nice illustrations, Madi. They really do set the mood.

To further set the mood: Petschek Palace is a real place and was the Gestapo HQ during the war. Today, it houses offices of the Czech Ministry of Industry and Trade and is also maintained as a museum and memorial to those who suffered there.

 

[Barbaria1]

Whew! Compelling narrative, Nara! I love the careful detailing ... what I might call “thick description” ... deftly combined with exquisite pacing. Nice writing!

 

[Madiosi]

It was here that Elizabeth was brought in the back of a military truck.

 

[Madiosi]

Elizabeth stood there between the two guards that had brought her, thinking over the details of the story she had formulated during the ride from the station, when the door behind her opened. The guards clicked their heels and raised their arms in the Nazi salute. Elizabeth turned to face the most extraordinary and frightening woman she had ever met.

 

[Madiosi]

Almost five foot ten, she was about an inch and a half taller than Elizabeth. She wore the black coat of an SS officer over a white shirt and black tie. The mannish garb did not conceal her feminine figure; in fact, it seemed to enhance it, emphasizing her large breasts and slender waist.