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Tender Flesh for the She-Devil of Prague

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Barbaria1 said:
I hope for her sake she was telling the truth
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But that's the problem with torture as an interrogation method-they tell you what they think you want to know, true or not. There are two possibilities-either you already know, in which case you are torturing not for interrogation but for sadistic pleasure or you don't know and so if they lie to you, you have no way to know.

That's why General Mattis said, "‘I’ve always found, give me a pack of cigarettes and a couple of beers and I do better with that than I do with torture. " I've always been tempted to write a CF story where they follow that advice. Would anybody read it?
 
windar said:
But that's the problem with torture as an interrogation method-they tell you what they think you want to know, true or not. There are two possibilities-either you already know, in which case you are torturing not for interrogation but for sadistic pleasure or you don't know and so if they lie to you, you have no way to know.
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Sometimes true but sometimes a canard.

If I torture you to tell me the names of your friends in Morocco, you could tell me anything you think I want.

If I torture your for your cell phone password which I'm holding here, you probably will tell me the truth.
 
Naraku said:
She barely got the word out before the pain hit her again. The shock was longer and more powerful than before. Elizabeth felt like every cell between her legs was exploding. Her back arched with her hips in the air and her whole body shacking. If someone had seen her, without knowing the circumstances, they might have thought she was vigorously engaged in passionate sex with an invisible lover. That is, if they could not hear her continuous, guttural, animalistic scream. Suddenly, the power was cut and her buttocks thudded back onto the table. She lay, gasping for air and soaked in sweat as Kreuzer leaned in over her.

“Well, schatzi?”

“There’s an engineer. He’s working on radar in a lab in Prague.” Elizabeth spoke quickly, before they could shock her again. “He is willing to provide information on the newest German radar, but only if we can get him and his family to safety. I was sent to arrange it.”

“Who is this engineer?”

“I don’t know.” This statement was immediately followed by another jolt of electricity. It was a short jolt, intended to goad her into providing information.

“I wasn’t told!” Elizabeth shouted, “If I knew his name I might give it up if I broke under torture so I wasn’t told.”

“But,” Kreuzer asked, “If you don’t know who he is, how are you to make contact with him.”

“I am to wait in front of Saint Nicholas Church every day, from the 17th to the 19th between noon and 3. A man will approach me wearing a green bow tie. He will ask me if I know the time. I’ll tell him that my watch is broken and he will tell me he knows a good repair shop on Nerodova Street. I will tell him I only have two Marks and he will say that’s enough. He will then take me to meet the engineer.”

“And who is this man?”

“I don’t know...I wasn’t told!”, Elizabeth shouted before they could shock her again, “I only know his code name is Seagull. For all I know it could be that tailor.”

“And how is he supposed to recognize you?”

“I am to be wearing my blue beret.”

Kreuzer took hold of Elizabeth’s face and looked into her eyes, “Why would they send you on this mission?”

“I studied electronics at university before joining the SOE. The engineer was going to show a sample of the documents he’s going to turn over. I have the technical knowledge to be able to tell if they’re legitimate. Plus, I lived in Prague as a child, while my father was assigned here on business, so I speak the language and know the city.”

“I see. And how were you going to get him out of the country?”

“Seagull’s people were going to help. I would escort him and his wife and children to Bergenz, in Austria, where our agents are waiting to get us all into Switzerland.”

Kreuzer stared into Elizabeth’s eyes intently. Perhaps she was weighing Elizabeth’s words and looking for some sign of falsehood in her face. Then, she turned and walked toward the back of the room. Elizabeth could hear her speaking to the man back there and him replying, but other than the occasional ja, jawohl and nein from the man, she could not make out the words. Then she heard the chair scrape on the floor, a pair of heels click, and the man walked past her. She noticed he was carrying a pad of paper and realized he must have been there to write down her responses.

Kreuzer returned and, with a surprising gentleness, removed the electrical clips from Elizabeth’s aching pudenda. She then began rubbing the injured organ. Elizabeth could not stop her body from responding to the stimulation. As her body quivered, she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to fight this humiliating arousal. Tears began to trickle from the corners of her eyes.

kreuzer stroked her hair with her free hand and leaned in close. “You did well, liebchen,” she purred, “You held out longer than most men. London can be proud of you. But, everyone breaks, eventually.”

She kissed Elizabeth on the forehead and stopped her stroking.

“We’ll be keeping you here for a while,” said Kreuzer, as she wiped Elizabeth’s juices from her hands on a handkerchief, “In case we have more questions for you. But, for now, you can get some rest.”

Elizabeth lay weeping, her body still trembling, as she listened to Kreuzer leave and felt Fritz and the guard untying her.

To be continued...
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I have been waiting in anticipation for this. I love evil German women. They are so perverted .Please keep up the good work.
 
Part VI

“If you are captured, you are to maintain your cover identity for as long as possible.”

Major Roger Mansfield stood in front of a diverse group of men and women in a nondescript country house near Beaulieu, Hampshire. One of them was a young, blond woman.

“There is the chance, if you are lucky, that they will believe you and you will be released. However, even if your cover has been blown, you must stick to your cover. It is imperative that you buy time. Time for other members of your team to make their escape. Time for plans to be changed. Time for any information you might have to become irrelevant.

“I won’t lie to you, there is very little chance that you will be rescued. That sort of thing only happens in movies. And, if you do not convince Jerry, or if they already know you are an agent, then, eventually you will be tortured.”

Mansfield paused a moment to let this statement sink in before continuing.

“I can’t say what methods they will use. The German’s don’t publish any manuals on the subject and there doesn’t seem to be any standard procedure in any case. I can, however, guarantee that it will be painful. The Nazis have had ten years to practice and they have become very good at it.

“Again, for the reasons I have already stated, it is imperative that you hold out for as long as possible. I know this is asking a lot of you. But, keep in mind that there are lives on the line. The lives of your comrades; the lives of Resistance workers; and, possibly, the future of all of Europe. Your life, on other hand, is already forfeit.

“Do not fool yourself. If you are captured and identified as a spy, you are already dead. Oh, Jerry may promise you your life. They may even promise you your freedom. They will promise you anything. It’s not a problem for them, because they have no intention of keeping those promises. Whether you talk or not, eventually, they will kill you.

“But, keep in mind that they do not want to kill you until you have talked. Therefore, if you can hold out, if you can keep your secrets until death, then you have won. The greatest victory you can achieve, is to die at the hands of your captors without ever revealing a thing.

“Of course, it is easy to say such brave words here in this comfortable, bucolic setting. It is a different thing to live up to those words in the bowels of a Gestapo torture chamber. Every man...and woman...has his or her breaking point. If you are lucky, you will die before reaching that point. But, we can’t count on you being that lucky.

“Therefore, before you are sent on a mission, you will be given the details of a different mission...a dummy mission. A cover mission beneath your cover story, as it were. It will include details such as code names, recognition signs, rendezvous points...all the things Jerry would expect. And, all of it completely bogus.

“Now, you may be tempted to give up this information right away in hopes of avoiding torture. That would be a mistake. Gestapo interrogators are brutal, but they are not stupid. They will be suspicious of information volunteered so quickly. And, remember, we need you to hold out as long as possible. No, you must make them work for it, or they won’t believe it. They will only believe the cover mission if they have wrenched it out of you. They must believe they have won. Most likely, they will execute you soon afterwards.

“And then, you will know that, in reality, you have won.”

To be continued...
 
Naraku said:
“If you are captured, you are to maintain your cover identity for as long as possible.”
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Easy for him to say, cushy billet in Hampshire, probably in a manor house, sipping old port with the dodgy old squire and feasting on Yorkshire pudding.
 
Part VII - The exciting conclusion

Elizabeth lay on her cot. She had managed, with some difficulty, to get her clothes back on. Every muscle in her body ached. Physical training for the SOE had been hard; obstacle courses, judo, 20 mile hikes. Some days, she was so sore she could barely move. This was the same thing, but it had come after just a few minutes strapped to a table. She just hoped it had all been worth it.

The information she had given to Kreuzer was completely false. Elizabeth wondered how long it would take them to realize that. They would likely send one of their own people to impersonate her, to stand in front of Saint Nicholas Church for three hours on three consecutive days, wearing a blue beret, waiting for a man in a green bow tie to ask her the time. Of course, no such man existed. What would they do when no rendezvous took place? Would they suspect she had lied to them and torture her again? If they did, she would claim ignorance. She would say that maybe someone had seen her arrested at the train station and warned her contact. Maybe she could even make them suspect someone in Petschek Palace had leaked the information. No, that wouldn’t work. But, if she suggested it, perhaps the natural suspicion of the Gestapo would be triggered. Kreuzer might believe that some of her own people were working against her; not as traitors to the Reich, but rivals for power. Infighting seemed to be the norm within the Nazi regime, perhaps Elizabeth could play on that. She knew, however, her best chance would be if they executed her before the 19th. She wondered what the date was.
 
The door opened and Fritz walked in. He was alone this time and was holding something made of leather.

“Stand up.” he commanded. Elizabeth complied.

“Strip.” Elizabeth again complied. There was no point in resisting, and she no longer felt any embarrassment in front of this man.

“Turn and face the wall.” This order was a new one. Now, Elizabeth was concerned. Was that thing he was holding a whip? No, he wouldn’t whip her in her cell, he’d take her to one of the interrogation rooms. While she was pondering this, something placed around her neck. Elizabeth had a moment of panic. Was he going to strangle her? Was this how she was to be executed?

Fritz spun her around to face him. It was then that Elizabeth realized what he had done. The thing around her neck wasn’t a garrote, it was a leather collar. And, it had a four foot leather lead attached to it. Fritz was holding the lead and grinning at her.

“Now, come with me, bitch.” he said, tugging on the lead.

He led her out into the corridor. This was all very strange. Previously, they had handcuffed her every time they took her from her cell. And, Fritz had never come for her alone before.

Instead of an interrogation room, Fritz took her to a freight elevator. She wondered if he was taking her to be executed. Was this some sort of new cruel and humiliating method the sadistic minds of the Gestapo had devised? Was she going to be hanged naked, not by a noose, but by a dog collar? Elizabeth felt the collar. It wasn’t very tight. She was able to get two fingers inside of it. If they hung her by it, it would take a long time to strangle her. Elizabeth began to feel an icy chill in her stomach. She had expected to die, but by the noose or the bullet, not like this.
 
The elevator stopped and Fritz led her out into a hallway. Things now seemed completely surreal to her. She was being led naked by a leash through a hallway that could exist in any office building anywhere in the world. They passed closed doors with names on brass plates. But, everything was eerily silent. No voices were heard, no phones were ringing and it dawned on her that it must be very late at night. Finally, they stopped in front of a door with the name plate: “Kreuzer, G., Sturmbannfuhrer.”. Fritz knocked

“Kommen.” came the familiar voice of Major Kreuzer from the other side.

Fritz opened the door and led Elizabeth into the room. It was an office that would be suitable for any mid-level bureaucrat. There was an oak desk with a brass desk lamp, intercom and two phones, a leather couch against one side wall; portraits of Himmler and Heydrich flanking a larger one of Hitler hanging above it. A file cabinet and a hat rack holding an SS greatcoat and hat, against the other wall.

Rising from the swivel chair, a smiling Kreuzer came around the desk and took the leash from Fritz.

“Thank you, Oberscharführer, I’ll take it from here.”

“Will there be anything else, Fraulein Sturmbannfuhrer?”

“No,” she replied, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Fritz clicked his heels and gave the stiff Nazi salute. Kreuzer responded with the more casual flip of the right wrist typical of a superior officer.
 
Throughout this exchange, Kreuzer had not taken her eyes off Elizabeth. Nor had that unnerving smile left her lips. After Fritz had left and closed the door behind him, she put her left hand on Elizabeth’s shoulder and pushed downward.

“Now, get down on your knees,” she purred.

Elizabeth did not resist and sank to her knees. Kreuzer dropped the leash and began walking back to the desk.

“Your life is over, liebchen. It ended the day you entered this building. The only question now is what comes next. It could the quick death of a hanging or the slow death in one of the camps. You have no say in the matter.”

“But, I do.” she said as she stood in front of the desk, “There is another option. I can choose to keep you here. As my own personal pet. Berlin wouldn’t care. I have enough connections to keep them from caring. You can live, or die, it is my decision.”

Kreuzer reached up under her skirt and pulled off her panties, “First, you will have to convince me that you are worth keeping.” she said, as she flung the panties onto the couch.

“Now, meine englische Hündin,” Kreuzer said as she perched herself on the edge of the desk, “Get over here and prove your value.” She raised her skirt and revealed her patch of downy blond pubic hairs and pink nether lips, “Get over here and start licking.”
 
Elizabeth had ceased to be shocked or surprised by anything Kreuzer said or did. She understood exactly what was expect of her. She crawled on her hands and knees until her face was level with the Major's groin. She then began to lick her pussy like her life depended on it; which it did.

Elizabeth was well suited to the job. This was not the first time she had tasted another woman’s sex. She had spent four years attending an all girl boarding school and had learned much more than the three Rs. In fact, by the end of her first year, she had become extremely popular with all of the senior class.

First, her tongue gently traced the edge of the outer lips. Then, she flicked the hood of the clitoris until she could feel the aroused organ begin to emerge. She had learned that it was best to start slowly and gradually increase the intensity. The soft moans of the German proved she was having the desired effect.

She sucked the emerging clitoris, pursing her lips around the rapidly enlarging organ and ever so gently touching the tip with her tongue. At the same time, she stroked the labial lips with the first two fingers of her left hand, until they became wet with the increasing amount of juices being produced by the German’s pussy. When they were good and slick, she slipped them into Kreuzer’s vagina, pumping them in and out with a slight twist to the left and right. While she was so doing, she felt along her collar with her right hand until she found the snap hook that held the leash. Carefully, still maintaining the rhythmic work of her lips and left hand, she unclipped the leash.
 
Kreuzer, for her part, was panting and moaning: “Mein Gott.” as she rubbed her hands over her bosom,

Elizabeth tilted her head so she could get a better angle and insert her tongue into Kreuzer’s vaginal canal, with rapid thrusts. This freed her left hand to hold the loop at the end of the leash and thread the other end through with her right, forming a sort of leather lasso, which she then held with her right hand.

Now, she initiated the move she had invented, that had made her a legend at Sternwyck School for Girls. While flicking the tip of Kreuzer’s engorged clitoris with her tongue, she again slid the two fingers of her left hand into the Major’s vagina. This time she held them in there while making a motion as if she were strumming a guitar. Kreuzer immediately responded by panting harder and wriggling her hips. For the first time, Elizabeth raised her head to look across the German’s blond thatch, not letting up on her finger movements. She knew the signs and that she would have only one shot at getting this right. Elizabeth stood, her hand still inside of Kreuzer, and poised to strike.
 
Greta Kreuzer reached the moment of climax. Her back arched and she cried out in ecstasy. In that moment, Elizabeth lunged, She threw herself on top of Kreuzer and dropped the looped leash over her head. Before the German could react, Elizabeth pulled the improvised noose tight around her throat. Elizabeth threw her legs over Kreuzer’s arms, pinning them down on the desk. Kreuzer struggled to throw her off, but with the two women being of roughly equal size and Elizabeth having the superior position, it was futile.

At first, Kreuzer made growling sounds like an anger bear and her expression was full of outrage at this assault. But, as Elizabeth continued to pull tight on the leather leash while straddling her naked, her expression changed to one of horror with the realization that she was being strangled by a defeated enemy; that she, a member of the Master Race, was going to die at the hands of an inferior. And the face she was looking into was one of a woman filled with the rage of days of torture and three years of war.

Elizabeth watched the face of the woman beneath her as the expression changed and her color went from pink to dark red and finally purple. She watched as the light went out in Kreuzer’s eyes and her features relaxed. Beneath her, she could feel the struggling weaken and finally cease. She felt the breathing stop and the body go limp. But, she remembered her training. When strangling an enemy, you must maintain pressure after the loss of consciousness. Sometimes, people revived after blacking-out due to asphyxia, and a clever enemy might even fake dying before becoming unconscious.

Finally, Elizabeth let go of the leash. She sat there, straddling Kreuzer, looking into the half-closed, unfocused eyes of her tormentor. But, she knew there was no time to savor her victory.
 
She checked Kreuzer’s wristwatch. It was almost a quarter past midnight. Then, she climbed off of the dead Nazi and went to the door. She listened, and, when she was satisfied that Kreuzer’s cries of ecstasy had not drawn the attention of any guards, she locked the door and got to work stripping the body. It was fortunate that the two women were close to the same size. She was able to fit into Kreuzer’s skirt, blouse, stockings, and coat. The boots were a bit to large, as was the bra. But Elizabeth was able to use one problem to solve the other by cutting the bra in half and stuffing a cup into the toe of each boot. She decided to not wear the panties.

She made a quick search of the office. The file cabinet was locked and the papers in the desk didn’t seem very important. Elizabeth would have loved to have gone through everything carefully, but she didn’t want to risk taking the time. She did find the Major’s Walther PPK service pistol, which she slipped into her coat pocket. She put on the heavy winter greatcoat and the cap with the dreaded SS deaths-head badge and wrapped a gray scarf that was hanging next to the coat around her neck, covering her chin. Kreuzer’s leather gloves were in the coat pocket. They were a bit large, but that wasn’t much of a problem. Turning up the collar of the greatcoat, she hoped she had done enough to fool a casual observer.

She listened at the door again before cracking it and looking up and the down the corridor. There was no sign of any activity so she headed out. Not wanting to risk taking the elevator, where someone might get on at a lower floor, she found the main stairs.

An NCO at the reception desk, seeing a blond woman in an SS uniform coming down the grand staircase, jumped to attention and raised his arm in the Nazi salute. “Gute Nacht, Fraulein Sturmbannfuhrer.” he said. The woman made a grunting sound and raised her right hand in a casual manner as she tuned toward the front door. The heels of her patent leather riding boots clicking on the marble floor as she crossed the lobby. She kept her chin down and her hat pulled low, shading her eyes and walked with a deliberate pace. Two guards stood at the door. One held the heavy oaken door open while the other raised his arm and barked “Heil Hitler.” Again, the woman flipped her right hand before disappearing into the night.
 
Doctor Petra Navarova was sleeping in her apartment above her dentist office on Klementska Street. She was awakened by someone ringing the bell at the back door of the office below. She looked at the clock as she pulled on her robe and slippers. It was ten minutes to two in the morning. Although she wasn’t pleased to be disturbed at this hour, she had become used to it. As a member of the Resistance, she often had people ringing the bell in the alleyway at all hours. Some were just delivering a message. Others needed a place to hide; her basement had a secret entrance that made it useful for hiding all manner of people and things. The worst situations were the ones needing medical attention. The war had made her as expert in treating gunshot wounds as she was at filling cavities. And so, she wasn’t really surprised to be receiving another visitor in the wee hours of the morning.

She was, however, quite surprised when she cracked open the door and saw a blond woman in the uniform of an SS Major. She was even more surprised when the woman said: “It is raining in Bratislava.”

It took Dr. Navarova a moment to respond: “Um...But it is sunny in Olomouc. Are you Rabbit?” the Dentist said with confusion.

“Yes,” the woman replied, “And you must be Zebra. I can explain why I’m dressed like this, but, may I come in first? It may be sunny in Olomouc, but it’s freezing in Prague.”
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The body of Greta Kreuzer was found at mid-morning the next day. She was sprawled naked on the floor with a leather leash wrapped around her neck. The official report to Berlin said that she had been attacked while questioning a prisoner. Why she had been questioning a British spy alone in the middle of the night was not explained in the report. Though the reason was known to many in Petschek Place, there was no reason to inform Berlin.

A massive search was immediately conducted, but Elizabeth Nolan could not be found. She hid in Dr. Navarova’s basement for several weeks, until she could dye her hair brown and acquire new identity papers. She later moved to various safe houses throughout the city. During this time, she put together a network that supplied valuable information to the Allies, carried out acts of sabotage, aided the escape of downed Allied airmen and took part in the Prague Uprising in May of 1945, opening the way for the liberation of the city. After the War, she returned to Britain and was awarded the Military Cross for her achievements, perhaps the greatest of which was the killing of the She-Devil of Prague.

The End
 
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