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It Happened in Hamburg

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3

Verhörraum E, Detention and Interrogation Section, Hamburg Stadthaus, 03:02, Sunday, 18 December, 1938

Georg Reimer was a man who relished the ability to make others suffer. His position as an Unterscharführer in charge of the internment of the constant flow of unfortunates dragged into Hamburg’s Gestapo detention center was, for him, a dream come true, a place where his considerable sadistic talents knew no bounds and were actually valued.

Now in his early fifties, Georg had served in the Kaiser’s Army during the Great War and had seen it all. In the War’s aftermath he had embraced the bitter sentiments shared by his many former comrades in arms with regard to the Armistice and the crippling conditions and demands forced on Germany at Versailles. In due time he had ended up channeling his bitterness and sadistic tendencies into the SA, or ‘Brownshirts’. Engaging with fanatical energy and viciousness in street brawls against the Communists, and in the daily harassment of Jews and Social Democrats. After the disbandment of the SA in the summer of 1934 he found his calling with the Hamburg Gestapo.

With a practiced eye, he scrutinized the young woman who stood before him. As he had told SS-Sturmbannführer Reinhardt, just minutes ago, she was quite pretty.

She wore an expensive-looking woolen winter coat and sensible winter boots. No hat, or perhaps it had been lost or confiscated after her arrest. She had long brown hair, worn in a bun behind her head, enchantingly dark brown eyes, and high cheek bones. Her sensuous mouth was at that moment, grimly and thinly set … no doubt a reflection of the guarded uncertainty he knew she must be feeling … especially given that she had just witnessed that other prisoner he had ordered beaten and dragged away in full view of his newest prisoner.

“Good evening, Fräulein Mohr,” he said in way of an introduction, raising his eyebrows as he often did when speaking. “My name is Georg Reimer, and it’s my duty, along with my assistants, to prepare you for your initial interrogation session with “SS-Sturmbannführer Reinhardt, for which I want you to be most relaxed and comfortable. So let us take your coat. You may remove it and hand it to either of my assistants.”

“No, thank you. It’s chilly down here. I’m quite comfortable wearing it.”

“That may be, Fräulein Mohr, but I’m afraid that I must insist. Kindly remove and hand over your coat. We wish to search it for contraband, you see. And while you are at it, your shoes and stockings as well.”

He watched expectantly as she stared at him, clearly trying to decide whether she should comply. And then as he suspected, she shrugged resignedly, removed her coat, handed it to one of his men, and then rather awkwardly hopped about to remove her shoes and warm woolen stockings.

“This floor is awfully cold,” she complained.

“Yes, it is. Now, I must require that you also remove your sweater and skirt, Fräulein Mohr.”

“No!”

“Yes! You must. They need to be searched as well. Standard procedure here. Do it now, or I’ll order my men to do it for you!”

She hesitated … blinked and frowned in a way he found rather charming. And then slowly … very slowly … unbuttoned and removed the colorful wool cardigan she was wearing, and held it out before one of his men, who snatched it away and tossed it to his grinning comrade.

Reimer smiled crookedly. He thought she looked quite fetching in her silky bra. He admired too the paleness of her fair skin under the harsh glare of the room’s lone and bare overhead light bulb.

“Now, the skirt, Fräulein Mohr,” he reminded her gently, as she seemed to have frozen in place.

She started, grimaced and then proceeded to lean forward in order to reach behind to unfasten at the waist her dark skirt, fashionably hemmed at just above the ankles.

Reimer smiled and flicked his tongue across his lips as, in so doing, she offered him a generous look down the valley between her breasts.

She had dropped the skirt to her ankles, and after a moment’s hesitation stepped clear of it before kicking it over in the direction of his men.

Outer clothing removed, she stood defiantly upright, wearing only her bra and panties, and wishing she hadn’t worn the sexy Parisian undies that Rudy had bought her on a recent trip to Paris. She’d worn them that night in anticipation of the celebration she and Rudy had planned to enjoy on the successful completion of this night’s work.

“Is that it, or do you want what’s left?” she asked, her eyes flashing contempt.

“No, that’ll do for now,” Fräulein Mohr. “Just, one more thing, undo that bun and free your hair.”

She complied quickly, reaching behind her head. His eyes caught a glimpse, as she stretched, of her navel momentarily emerging from under the waistband of her panties as well as a look at the lines of her ribs pressing out against her skin. And following that, of the cascade of hair falling onto her shoulders and down her back.

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“Excellent, Fräulein Mohr. Thank you for being so cooperative. Now if you’ll hold perfectly still, I will complete what remains of the mandatory clothing and body search myself.”

Advancing swiftly, he stepped directly in front of her and reaching for the shoulder straps of her bra, slid them down her arms until the silky fabric of her bra cups came down far enough for first one nipple and then the other to pop free. He sucked in his breath, savoring the beauty of her breasts and the contrasting color of her perky rosy nipples and pebbled areolae against the soft creamy surrounding paleness. Reaching out with thumb and forefinger, he both teased and pinched her nipples, causing her to start and gasp, before sliding her bra straps back into place over her shoulders.

“Enjoyed that, did you?” She snapped, eyes flashing her disgust

“Of course,” he replied as he went down on his knees, and reaching for the waistband of her panties pulled the silky fabric halfway down to her knees.

He felt her go rigid and heard her curse under her breath as his hands moved up her thighs until his thumbs came into contact with the pouty lips of her vulva. At which point he paused to take in her triangle of dark pubic hair before lifting his gaze to the stoic but contemptuously dark expression on her face.

Reimer was about to use his forefinger to continue with his humiliating faux search of her privates, but his intentions were cut short by the sudden arrival of his superior.

“Everything in order here, Reimer?” barked SS-Sturmbannführer Reinhardt from the open doorway.

“Yes, quite so, Herr SS-Sturmbannführer!” replied Reimer, jumping to his feet with surprising agility, and snapping to attention. “The prisoner has been thoroughly searched and is ready for your interrogation.”

“Splendid, Reimer. That will be all for now. I’ll take it from here. Kindly leave and close the door. Oh, and be sure to leave the files I requested here with me.”

“Jawohl, Herr SS-Sturmbannführer. You’ll find them on the table.

“Thank you, Reimer. Now, get out!”


TBC
 
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Fossy said:
Reimer ... what a great character. Cold, collected and calm on the outside, malevolently polite
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Not exactly lovable is he …


mp5stab said:
even going as far as to make her drop her bun
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Inspired by the dreadful “climate change heat” of this summer in which a bun is a sensible hair thingy to do …
twonines said:
Brilliant work, Barb.
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And another brilliant limerick 99. Keep ‘em coming!
 
Barbaria1 said:
“Good evening, Fräulein Mohr,” he said in way of an introduction, raising his eyebrows as he often did when speaking. “My name is Georg Reimer, and it’s my duty, along with my assistants, to prepare you for your initial interrogation session with “SS-Sturmbannführer Reinhardt, for which I want you to be most relaxed and comfortable. So let us take your coat. You may remove it and hand it to either of my assistants.”
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Definitely the most gentle stripping scene, Barb has ever written! Unterscharführer Reimer has clearly grown up and has been educated during the Empire with the standards from then!

Barbaria1 said:
“This floor is awfully cold,” she complained.
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Before Mohr complaining, next time consider distributing these leaflets during summer! :doh:
Barbaria1 said:
wearing only her bra and panties, and wishing she hadn’t worn the sexy Parisian undies that Rudy had bought her on a recent trip to Paris.
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I you want to please the Gestapo, always wear undies decorated with little swastikas on it! ;)

 
4

14 Gotenstrasse, Hammerbrook district, Hamburg, 03:32, Sunday, 18 December, 1938

Rudy Weiss paced rapidly back and forth, covering the two and a half meter breadth of his shabby ‘Mietskaserne’ bedsitter attic flat in as many seconds before spinning about. A state of heightened anxiety was written all over his face.

His anxiety was over the fact that it was getting late and Barbara hadn’t returned! She should have been back long ago. By his reckoning she should have distributed all the circulars he had sent her off with and returned well before 3.

Had it been a terrible mistake to send her out this night? There was no reason to think so. She’d done exactly the same thing on a number of nights like this without any complications. She’d always returned promptly and they’d celebrated her return by drinking together and making wild passionate love.

He stopped dead in his tracks to look at the small sagging bed they so often shared, and at the two empty glasses and unopened bottle of Mosel Riesling … her favorite … that they’d planned to share.

His imagination jumped to how she typically would take everything off except her underthings … the expensive and sexy Parisian ones he had bought for her the last time he was there. And how after a couple glasses of Riesling she would get up off the bed, let down her hair and prance about seductively … in what she imagined to be a Parisian cabaret style dance … for his entertainment.

She’d put on her seductive little show, humming to herself while gyrating her hips and teasingly removing her bra was before suddenly running straight at him and bowling him over backwards into the bed.

It was a ritual, nearly always playing out exactly the same way. Once in bed, she’d plaster herself tightly against him and kiss him passionately, and after awhile suddenly roll over on her back and demand that he kiss and suck her nipples … right then left … over and over again … while she reached for his cock, which she would slowly stroke in the grasp of her hand. And when they were both ready, she’d flop over on her back and demand that he strip away her panties and fuck her … hard!

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It was absolutely the best sex ever, totally abandoned and often rough. And that assessment was coming from someone who was known for having more than his share of women hanging about his neck, all of them just as eager as she was to be bedded by him. Yes, no doubt about it, though. She was in his opinion the best lay anyone could ask for.

They’d met at university, she as a first year student. He, somewhat older, nearing the end of his studies. He’d been wary of her, at first. Everyone there knew she was the daughter of Joachim Mohr, hardly fertile ground for a committed socialist like himself.

But over time, he began to regard her as a double challenge … a challenge to persuade her politically as well as to bed her … a double challenge much enhanced by his friends who were willing to wager heavily against him succeeding at either one.

In the end, he had proved them all wrong, easily winning her over in both regards. She had turned out to be an easy lay, as was almost any female he chose to go after. And although stubbornly contrary to his extremist brand of leftist politics at first, she eventually came around to becoming as passionately committed as he. Perhaps even more so, as converts so often can be. Or was it simply that she enjoyed sticking it to her overbearing father?

In any case, breaking out of his reverie, he was more certain than ever that something had gone terribly wrong … that she’d quite likely been picked up and was in the custody of the hated Gestapo. A fact that not only put her in mortal danger, but him and the entire cell too, as he suspected the Gestapo knew full well how to make her talk. And he suspected she’d be easy prey.

He hurriedly dressed, reached for his coat, hat and a fresh pack of cigarettes, took a long and wistful look at the unopened wine bottle and rumpled empty bed, turned away and left the flat.

Descending the stairwell down to street level, he wasn’t sure where he was going, but he dared not stay. If she talked, they’d be coming there looking for him. And if she held out he needed to find a way of getting to her, and possibly … if necessary … silencing her.

TBC
 
Another excellent chapter Barb. Just wondering if ultimately Rudy respects Barb or is he simply using her as a pretty convert to his socialist ideals. The phrase 'She was an easy lay' suggests the latter - the cad!

Love the description of the routine way they made love/had sex, and women's underwear in the 1930's is just so damn sexy!
 
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5

Verhörraum E, Detention and Interrogation Section, Hamburg Stadthaus, 03:02, Sunday, 18 December, 1938

Reinhardt said nothing until he was sure that Reimer had truly left and was not listening outside the interrogation room door.

While he waited he cast an appraising eye over her, standing before him wearing only her fancy silk undergarments. Reimer was right, he thought to himself, she’s quite beautiful.

Satisfied they were alone, he said to her softly, “You look cold, Fräulein Mohr. Please allow me to lend you my jacket to drape over your shoulders for a bit of warmth.”

“Thank you. But I’d much prefer that my own clothing be returned to me immediately. This is all a terrible mistake, Herr SS-Sturmbannführer! I wish to go home.”

“Well, we shall see about that, Fräulein Mohr. But, as to your your clothing items, they cannot be returned right away as they are in the process of being thoroughly searched at this very moment. Standard procedure here, you understand.”

“No, I don’t understand!” she replied, stamping one foot for emphasis and fixing him with an indignant glare. “Stripping me of my clothing is nothing more than an intimidation tactic! Well, I’m not easily intimidated! And I repeat … this is all a terrible mistake! Do you know who my father is, Herr SS-Sturmbannführer?”

“As a matter of fact, I do, Fräulein Mohr!” And I’m not the least intimidated. You say this is all a mistake? Why don’t you accept my jacket, take a seat at the table over there and explain to me how your arrest and presence here is such a terrible mistake.”

Watching for her reaction, he noted a relaxation of expression but also a slight frown. She hasn’t quite thought through yet how she should explain her nocturnal actions, he concluded.

“Alright, Herr SS-Sturmbannführer. I accept the kind offer of your jacket.”

“Excellent, please have a seat, Fräulein Mohr,” he replied, gallantly pulling out the heavy metal chair for her, and bowing slightly.

“You’re not planning to lock my wrists and ankles in those things, are you?” she gasped, nervously pointing to the metal restraints welded to the arms and legs of the chair before drawing his jacket tightly around herself.

“I sincerely hope that won’t be necessary, Fräulein Mohr. Now, kindly sit down and tell me how it was that you were out on the streets of Hamburg alone at 2 in the morning on a cold winter night. You are, by the way, aware of the fact that there’s a curfew in effect, are you not? And moreover, you should know that we received a call from a patriotic citizen earlier this night reporting the suspicious behavior of a young woman going door-to-door distributing what he believed to be contraband leftist propaganda.”

“Well, I ….”

“Stop right there, Fräulein Mohr. Has anyone ever told you that you have a very expressive face, especially your eyes? You are about to lie to me, aren’t you? And not only that, you are about to tell me a very poorly thought out lie.”

He watched her reaction with satisfaction, noting how she blinked twice as well as noticing the nervous twitch at one corner of her thin-lipped but sensuous mouth.

“While you think about that, Fräulein Mohr, let me review your file with you. According to what’s written here, you were born here in Hamburg on 12 April, 1916. You are an only child, the daughter of Joachim and Eva Mohr. Your mother is deceased.

Your file contains a picture of you in braided pigtails, wearing a Bund Deutscher Mädel uniform, and a note written by your BDM leader describing you as impetuous and contrary, and a frequent recipient of disciplinary corporal punishment.

Oh, and this is quite interesting!

Here are three additional photos of you being disciplined at a BDM summer camp. The photos are dated 8 July 1934 and show you and another BDM girl standing before a pair of wooden whipping posts, arms bound overhead and stripped of everything but your uniform shoes, knee-high stockings, and panties … the latter of which are rolled down to the tops of your thighs.

Discipline in these photos is being administered by what appears to be a pair of rather stern-looking and brawny BDM group leaders.

And the marks on your backside suggest that the disciplinary action was well under way when the photos were taken. And the anguished look on your faces, as you and your friend glance at one another, suggest that this was not a happy occasion!

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Oh, wait. there’s more!

The notation printed on the backs of the photos reads: ‘B. Mohr and K. Frenzel, receiving 25 lashes each, as witnessed by the assembled senior girls section, for blatantly disrespectful comments speculating about the size of the Führer’s genitals, overheard and dutifully reported by BDM member, A. Meyer.’

Seems that disrespectful and unpatriotic behaviors are a specialty of yours, Fräulein Mohr.

Going further, your file reports that after completing two years of ‘land service’ attached to a farm in Bavaria you entered university here in Hamburg in the autumn of 1936. According to the surveillance entries from that time you became romantically involved there with another student … a certain Rudolf Weiss … and a known socialist and communist sympathizer.

There are several surveillance photos in your file in which you appear attending clandestine socialist rallies in the company of Weiss.

Would you care to see any of the photos in your file?”

He watched intently as she shook her head to say no. She was visibly shaken. The color had drained from her face. He thought she might be on the verge of tears.

“Well, Fräulein Mohr? Suppose you tell me now exactly what you were doing out on the streets of Hamburg at 2 in the morning?”

“I went to visit a friend, and got lost. The city looks so different at that time of night, especially in an area one doesn’t know well. The truth is, I simply lost my way. And the more I wandered about the more disoriented I became.”

“What friend? Who?” Why visit a friend at that hour of the night?”

She stared at him blankly, her lips started to move but she didn’t speak. She appeared to again be in the verge of tears.

He gave her time … time to fully realize the gravity of her situation.

But suddenly, she seemed to regain control of herself, pushing her chair back from the table and rising to her feet.

“I don’t know. I have nothing further to say to you. This is all a terrible mistake! Please call my father. I want to go home.”

“Sorry, Fräulein Mohr, but no! That’s not possible. You are in serious trouble. Please sit down again and try to answer my questions truthfully. It’s in your own best interest. If necessary, as they say, we have ways to make you talk.”

Silence.

Rising from his chair, he sighed loudly, went over to the door, opened it and called, “Reimer!” You’re needed in here!”

After which he lit a cigarette, leaned against the wall and watched her break down … openly sobbing, tears streaming down her cheeks … his jacket slowly beginning to slip from her shoulders as she leaned forward and wrapped her arms tightly around herself.

He continued to watch.

Suddenly she raised her head and blinked the tears from her eyes. He thought for a moment she might say something … come to her senses … confess. But instead there was only an animal-like wail of despair as she buried her head in her arms on the table, and his jacket fell to the floor.

As she hunched forward over the table he stared at the exquisite curve of her bare back and spine, broken only by the narrow wings and hooks that fastened her bra. And at the flare of her hips and the spread of her tight little ass cheeks beneath her silky underwear. Yes, he was aroused and actually looking forward to what was going to happen next.

“Herr SS-Sturmbannführer!” shouted Reimer, bursting into the room and snapping uncharacteristically to attention.

“Bring in the others, Reimer. It seems Fräulein Mohr is in need of some gentle persuasion. Kindly strip her completely naked, secure her ankles and wrists to the chair, and bring in the necessary tools.

“Jawohl, Herr SS-Sturmbannführer!”

TBC
 
is he the brother of of Hans Lander (Christopher Walz)

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Brilliant characterisation, Barb…

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Barbaria1 said:
You’re not planning to lock my wrists and ankles in those things, are you?” she gasped, nervously pointing to the metal restraints welded to the arms and legs of the chair before drawing his jacket tightly around herself.
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Oh that’s such a shame, I love the juxtaposition of that gossamer Parisian lingeries, and Barb’s goose pimpling flesh, confined by those hard metal irons….

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A real shame they had to strip her, my image of a shackled Barb in exquisite lingerie has been shattered… such vulgar brutes don’t understand the artistic opportunity they missed
 
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