Anthea s baby 1
- 1 year ago
- 331
- 0
The Crossing - Part 25 free porn video
An escaped PoW masquerading as a dead woman, I had just been the bride
in a wedding ceremony and was now a Countess. But as
my new husband was having his way with me one man was being tortured in
our cellar and an assassin was lurking in our walls.
THE CROSSING - part 25
by BobH
(c) 2016
- 57 -
Helmut picked my Beretta up off the bed and pointed it at me.
"I don't think I'll be needing this," he said
"No, you won't," I replied, "I'll come quietly."
"You don't usually," he said, grinning mischievously as he
placed the gun in my bedside table drawer.
Taking my hand he led me over to where my full length mirror stood,
standing behind me and sliding his arms around my waist.
"My bride, my wife," he said, "married at last. I can't tell you how
much I wanted this."
This was supposed to be a sham, just a charade to keep stringing Helmut
along, but it felt real. We had sworn our vows to each other before God
and now, staring at my reflection, I could only see a young bride in the
loving arms of her husband, waiting for him to lift her wedding dress
and have his way with her. In a daze, I let Helmut guide me to the end
of out bed where I bent over, gripping the horizontal rail connecting
the posts at that end of the four-poster. He moved the mirror so it was
facing me, got into position behind me, then raised my dress and the
petticoats beneath up over my back to reveal my rear - I had removed my
knickers earlier.
"Mmmm," he said, softly running an appreciative hand along my silk
stockinged legs and up under the garter belt straps stretched tautly
over my buttocks, "as lovely and as sexy as ever."
He undid his belt and dropped his trousers before reaching for the
lubricating cream. It was cold as he worked it into my anus, but nothing
I hadn't experienced dozens of times before. He wiped the excess from
his hands with a towel and gripped my hips firmly. I braced myself for
what came next, gasping as he slid his engorged member into me -
somehow, the moment of entry always came as a surprise. Helmut took a
moment or two get comfortably positioned, but was soon pumping away
vigorously.
No sooner did he climax, arching his back as he filled me with his seed,
than he reached under, took a firm hold of my member, and started
working it. It was important to Helmut that my own climax should happen
while he was inside me, the way a woman would. Since this was his
wedding night he would expect his bride to be as engaged as he was, so I
held nothing back. On this of all nights, he deserved no less.
I did not come quietly.
Beyond just the sex, the intensity of his love for me was overwhelming.
Lying in his arms afterwards, as he smothered me with kisses, I had no
doubt that he would die for me.
"I'll have my stuff moved in here tomorrow," he said a little later,
stroking my arm. "Now that we're a married couple we need to have the
same bedroom."
Our previous arrangement, with us each having our own rooms but spending
the night together in one or the other, had been a matter of decorum.
Rumstahl was not the big city but a small village, one with conservative
social mores. While everyone knew the Count's girlfriend was living with
him at the castle, and many probably assumed we were sleeping together,
we couldn't be blatant about it. Those in the upper echelons of every
society have always managed to flout convention to some extent, but
there were limits. As long as we maintained separate rooms, something
gossiping servants would confirm, social propriety was preserved.
Hypocritical I know, but appearances are important in these matters. Now
that we were married, it was just as necessary for us to be seen to be
sharing the same room, news of which would get out too, of course.
Previously, my position in the village had been somewhat anomalous. I
was treated with respect, but at the same time I was seen by some as
Helmut's 'kept woman' and so not in fact entirely respectable. The
wedding had changed all that. Now that I was their Countess, I would be
universally accepted and, as Lexi had said, would have the
responsibilities that came with that position.
I was still thinking about this, the absurdities of social manners and
conventions, when I fell asleep, my head on Helmut's chest and his hand
cupping my buttock, as was often the case. It had been one hell of a
day.
As always, we woke the next morning about an hour before breakfast. We
followed our usual routine, Helmut heading off to the castle gym while I
got myself ready to face the day. I showered first then, after towelling
myself dry and donning a bathrobe, I rapped out the agreed series of
knocks on the side panel of my closet that let Benton know it was safe
to emerge from his hiding place. He had been there, mere feet away from
us, the whole time Helmut and I were having sex last night. I was
thankful the walls were thick enough that he would have heard nothing.
"The coast is clear," I told him, "and the door to the room is locked.
You can safely take maybe twenty minutes to do your ablutions and
stretch your legs."
"Much appreciated, Ripley," he said.
Wasting no time, he immediately launched into a series of stretching
exercises.
"Did everything go according to plan?"
"It did. They took the bait and swallowed it hook, line, and sinker.
Bruno Gruber is in the cellar being tortured for information even as we
speak."
"A shame the poor bastard has none to give them."
"Even though he's a despicable human being who would happily have done
the same or worse to others, I can't help feeling guilty at having
landed him in that situation."
"Torture's a filthy business right enough, and something no country that
considers itself civilized should condone, but in this case it was him
or me."
"I know, but still...."
"Chin up, Ripley. In a few more days you and I will be going home and we
can put all this behind us."
When Helmut and I went down to breakfast later, pretty much everyone
staying in the castle was already up. Gerda, Wernher von Braun, Hanna
Reitsch, Peter Jacob (but no Leni), and Lexi all greeted us as we
entered. Not so Albrecht Grost, who was nursing his head. He had a pot
of chicory next to him and had clearly already downed several cups in
the hope it would be as
reviving as coffee could be when you were hung over.
"I trust you two had a...pleasant...night," said Gerda, smirking at us
as we took our seats.
"Very," said Helmut. "I'm glad to see you looking happier today than you
did yesterday, dear sister."
"I have good reason to," she said, passing him a letter. "This arrived
with the morning post. It was sent a week ago and it's from Hans. He's
being transferred from Paris to Berlin. Given how long his letter took
to get here, he's probably already made the move."
"Oh, Gerda, that's wonderful news!" I said. With Allied forces only days
from Paris, the fate of her lover had been weighing on her.
"Yes, congratulations," said Peter Jacob. "It's always good to know a
loved one is safe."
"Speaking of which, is Leni OK?" I said, enquiring after his absent
wife.
"She couldn't face breakfast so she's in our room packing. We're heading
off on the morning train."
"As are Hanna and I," said Wernher. "We both have to get back to our
jobs, if the Americans haven't bombed our workplaces again."
"You're still testing aircraft, Hanna?" I said, surprised.
"Development doesn't stop because Germany has suffered some military
reverses," she replied, "and we're already seeing the fruits of superior
German technology. Our jet fighter, the Messerschmitt 262, is now
operational, the first in the world to see combat. Last month an Me 262
took on one of the RAF's de Havilland Mosquito reconnaissance aircraft,
and the Mosquito came off worse. A magnificent aircraft the Mosquito,
and one we couldn't catch. Now we can."
"Yes, but how many of these jet aircraft do we have?" said Helmut. "Can
we produce them in the numbers we need, and as quickly as we need them?"
Hanna never got the chance to answer because just then the door opened
and someone else joined us. It was Markus Wagner.
He looked as immaculate as always save for one thing. On the
toe of his boot were two small spots. Bright red spots.
They were drops of blood.
- 58 -
Despite having been up all night, Wagner did not appear tired.
"Good morning everyone," he said, taking a seat and pouring himself a
glass of water.
"You've finished interrogating Bruno?" said Grost, looking up from the
table for the first time.
"I have."
"And...?"
"And it appears he was working alone."
"You're sure?"
"I am. Had he been working with others I would have extracted their
names. I achieved the main objective I was assigned, which was to get
him to confess to his attempted assassination
of the Fuehrer. It took a while, but eventually he broke. They always
do."
"Did he say why he wanted to kill the Fuehrer?"
"He did not."
"Are you going to try and get that out of him, too?" I asked, shuddering
at the thought of what you'd have to do to a man to get him to confess
to something he was innocent of.
"Further questioning will not be possible. Regrettably, Bruno Gruber did
not survive the interrogation."
An awkward silence descended. Wagner sipped his water, appearing not to
notice, while the rest of us cast nervous glances at Grost, who was
staring at Wagner fiercely. Then he spoke.
"Good," he said, to the surprise of almost everyone. "He was my friend,
but the evidence against him was damning and he confessed to his crime.
He tried to kill the Fuehrer, so he
got what he deserved."
"Quite so," said Wagner, dabbing at his lips with a napkin. "While you
were sleeping new orders came in which were for you, Herr Grost, your
reward for saving the Fuehrer's life."
"Oh?" said Grost, his mood visibly brightening.
"You're being promoted and reassigned to Berlin. You will be working at
the headquarters of the Gestapo."
Now Grost smiled. He knew what moving from what was essentially a
provincial backwater to the centre of power meant for his future career
prospects. Of course, how much future that career could have with Allied
forces advancing on Germany was another matter. Grost was a true
believer. He probably still thought Hitler could turn the situation
around. Lexi was looking at Wagner thoughtfully, clearly weighing what
this meant for her own prospects.
"When do they want us there?" she asked.
"As soon as possible. Obviously, this notice is too short for you to
make the morning train, but you should be on the afternoon one."
"What of my men in the village?" asked Grost.
"They need to leave too, as do my own men and I. Our job here is now
done, and our presence no longer required. The Fuehrer wishes Rumstahl
to return to the way it was, and for a new captain of police to be
chosen to replace the late Captain Wendt."
"This is most irregular," said Grost, frowning.
"I agree, but he is our Fuehrer and we must follow his orders. He wants
this village to return to how he has always known it. The Fuehrer can be
quite sentimental in some matters."
I could see Grost didn't agree with this idea at all, that he would
prefer to maintain a Gestapo presence here, but he wasn't about to
question Hitler's orders. I was relieved. I'd miss Lexi but having the
Gestapo and the SS gone would be a huge relief. I'd been anxious about
being exposed all the time they'd been here, and constant anxiety is
exhausting.
Breakfast ended soon afterward and people started to drift
away. On her way out Gerda took me to one side.
"Thank you for making my brother so happy," she whispered, glancing over
at him. "He's positively glowing. Too many people would say that what
you do with each other is an abomination, that it's unnatural, but it's
not. For the two of you it's perfectly natural. What could be more
natural than giving physical expression to your love, after all? When in
your passion and your sexual desire you submit to Helmut and let him
take you, the joining together of your two bodies is just as beautiful
and as precious as with any other husband and wife. Never forget that."
"I won't," I promised her, a little taken aback by this. Gerda was
always more forthright about her brother's sex life than I was entirely
comfortable with.
Soon only Leni, Wernher, Helmut and I remained.
"Albrecht doesn't feel up to church this morning," said Lexi,
"so do you mind if I accompany you?"
"Of course not," I said. "Helmut and Wernher have things they want to
discuss before Wernher has to catch the train so he'll be along later,
but you and I could walk down together."
"That would be lovely. I just need to get my hat. Shall I get yours
while I'm at it?"
"Yes, thank you, Lexi."
When she left the room, Wernher turned to Helmut.
"You know the war is lost, of course?" he said.
"Yes," said Helmut, studying his friend's face closely. "It's only a
matter of time before the enemy is at our door."
"Agreed, which is why we need to make plans now for that eventuality."
"What did you have in mind?"
"Our knowledge and expertise make us invaluable to the British, the
Americans, and the Russians. Equally, we have to assume the Nazis would
kill us before they'd let that knowledge fall into enemy hands. When the
time comes we'll have to make a break for it. We'll head west, of
course; none of us want to be taken by the Russians, do we?"
"No," said Helmut, shuddering, "we do not."
"When we're ready, you'll need to join us. We have to assume our phone
conversations are being monitored so we need to decide on a codeword or
phrase I could use that let's you know to come now and bring Eva and
Gerda but which wouldn't arouse suspicion."
"'Frau im Mond'," I said.
"What?"
"'Frau im Mond'," I repeated. "I was just thinking about the model
rocket from the film 'Frau im Mond' I got Helmut last Christmas. You're
both life-long rocketry buffs, so reminiscing about the movie is
something you might do."
"Yes," said Wernher, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, "that just might fit
the bill."
"Then 'Frau im Mond' it is," said Helmut. "Thank you, darling."
A couple of minutes later Lexi returned with our hats, and she
and I set off for the church. It was a gloriously bright day
with only the gentlest of breezes, and the warm sun felt wonderful on
the exposed skin of my arms and legs as we walked along arm in arm, the
skirts of our summer dresses swishing from side to side in unison. We
did not enter the church immediately on reaching it but went around the
side to the graveyard, where I laid my wedding bouquet down on Steffi's
grave.
"It's only right that she have these flowers," I said, "because they and
the life I now have would have been hers if fate had not been so cruel
to her."
"Amen," said Lexi, quietly.
We stood in silent reflection for a few moments, each lost in our own
thoughts.
"What are you plans now?" I asked Lexi. "I'm sure they didn't originally
include relocating to Berlin."
"Too true, they didn't, but it's still the capital and capitals are
usually where the action is. I'm more likely to find someone there to
move on to after I dump Albrecht than I am out here in the country."
"You're not worried about the bombing?"
"I'm not wild about it, but we both lived through the Blitz. If your
number's up then it's up and there's nothing you can do about it, but
otherwise life goes on. You know that as well as I do."
I nodded.
"Well, I hope everything works out for you, Lexi. I've got used to
having you around these past few weeks, and I've adored our lovemaking
sessions."
"Awww, that's so sweet!" she cooed.
She took my hand and led me to the to the church wall, which she leaned
back against before pulling me to her. Her lips met mine, but I quickly
pulled away.
"We shouldn't be doing this here," I said, glancing around nervously.
"Why not? The church shields us from the road and we'd only be visible
to anyone on the far side of the valley who happens to be viewing the
church through binoculars, so stop worrying."
She was right: I was fretting about nothing. We resumed kissing and
fondling each other.
"That...that has to be one of the best farewells I've ever been given,"
I said.
"Yes, it wasn't at all bad, was it?" she grinned. "Though, we've both
wrecked our lipstick."
She was right, of course. I took a handkerchief, my powder compact, and
a lipstick from my handbag. Using the mirror in the compact, I first
wiped away my smeared lipstick with the handkerchief then applied a
fresh coat. After checking the rest of my make up was okay and fluffing
my hair, I put everything back in the handbag. When I looked up Lexi had
finished her own repairs and was grinning at me.
"Well look at you!" she said.
"What?"
"That was expertly done, with calmness and a complete lack of self-
consciousness, like it was the most natural thing in the world for you.
No one watching would guess you'd ever been anything other than a pretty
girl who revels in her femininity."
"Like I told you, I came around," I said, shrugging as I repeated the
lie she believed.
"You finally accepted yourself for who you really are," she said,
hooking her arm in mine, "and you look so much happier now than you did
in the camp. Being a married woman suits you."
"I'm going to miss your running commentary on my life," I said dryly.
"I'm sure we'll see each other again before this is all over," she
replied with a laugh. "We're the girls of Stalag Luft XII, and it's our
destiny. Now, we'd best take our places inside. Your husband and your
sister-in-law will be here any minute and they'll wonder where we've got
to."
Church felt different today than it did most Sundays. The villagers who
approached us outside afterwards were more deferential to me and their
smiles seemed more genuine, though this might just have been my
imagination.
By the time we returned to the castle Markus Wagner and his SS men were
already loading their stuff into their vehicles, ready to depart.
"Off already?" said Helmut.
"We have our orders and I see no reason for further delay,"
replied Wagner. "In order to spare you and the Countess any distress I
had my men remove Bruno Gruber's remains while you were at church. We
will dispose of them when we reach our destination. Now we must go. My
thanks for your hospitality
and my condolences for the unpleasantness that marred your wedding. Heil
Hitler!"
He gave the Nazi salute, and so did we.
"Heil Hitler!" we responded.
Our relief as we watched them drive away was palpable. I felt like a man
who had just dodged a bullet.
It was a day for departures. Wernher, Hanna, Leni, and Peter Jacob had
all caught the morning train while we were at church, and later that
afternoon we also bid farewell to Lexi and Albrecht Grost.
"Good luck in Berlin, Albrecht." said Helmut, shaking his hand, "and I'm
sorry about Gruber. You two were friends for a very long time."
"Yet it seems I didn't really know him at all," he said, sadly.
Lexi and I shared only a quick hug and an air kiss, our real goodbye
having been earlier in the church yard. I had very mixed feelings as
they were driven away by Grost's Gestapo driver. I was sad to see Lexi
go, and ashamed of how suspicious I'd been of her at first. I now
appreciated that all she had ever wanted from me was my friendship.
"The first thing I'm going to do," said Helmut, as he watched them go,
"is to have that verdammt interrogation area dismantled and the 'tools'
restored to their rightful place as museum pieces. Gruber was the first
to be tortured down there and he will be the last."
- 59 -
With Grost gone Helmut was free to reoccupy his own office, a task he
set to enthusiastically the following morning, but not before Frau
Engelmann turned up at the castle with an armful of newspapers. She
burst in excitedly when Helga opened the door to her.
"It's in all the papers!" she said, beaming at us.
"What is?" I asked.
"Why your wedding, of course. The Ministry of Propaganda released copies
of their photos to them, and I don't think a bride can ever have looked
as beautiful as you did, Countess."
"Well, thank you for the papers, Frau Engelmann," I said taking them
from her.
"It was my pleasure," she said, turning to leave. "The photo of the two
of you with the Fuehrer is wonderful! I've applied to the Ministry for a
print and I'm going to have it framed and give it pride of place on the
wall in my post office."
I carried the papers through to the dining room where Helmut and I laid
them out on the table so that we could go through them. Frau Engelmann
was right. Our wedding featured prominently in every last one, though we
were under no illusions as to why. This was less about our wedding than
it was about projecting an image of confidence and normality, that
however bad the situation might appear it couldn't be as bad as it
seemed if Hitler was able to take time out to attend a wedding. There
was no mention of the attempt on his life, of course. The same three
photos appeared in every newspaper: one of Hitler with the two of us,
and close-up headshots of Helmut and me, very clear headshots.
"Frau Engelmann is right, you know," said Helmut, sliding an arm around
my shoulders, "you really do make the most beautiful bride."
I smiled at his compliment, but I was anything but happy about the
photographs because I knew what the quality of those headshots meant,
and it wasn't good. When Helmut left me to begin ferrying stuff back
into his office, I carried the papers up to our room and got Benton out
of the secret passage. When I did I got a surprise. The stubble of
yesterday had gone, but it wasn't all that was missing.
"What happened to your moustache?" I asked.
"I borrowed the Count's razor while you were at breakfast."
"Ah," I said, comprehension dawning. "It's what you told me before about
changing your appearance by removing facial hair. You don't want to
match any descriptions of Johann Schmidt that might be issued."
"Very good. So are you ready for tonight?" he said.
Our plan had been to slip away from the castle under cover of darkness.
"I...I can't go with you."
"Why not?" said Benton, frowning. "You're not getting cold feet are you,
Ripley?"
"I wish it was that simple, but these are the problem."
I handed him the newspapers.
"As you'll see, every one of them from the V?lkischer Beobachter all the
way down to that vile rag Der St?rmer is carrying the same photos from
the wedding, presumably supplied to them by Goebbels. There's a photo of
Hitler with Helmut and me, alongside large headshots of us both. The
reason I can't go with you is because if I do you'll never make it. I'll
be recognized everywhere and that will put your life in danger. What
with the newsreel of the wedding about to play in cinemas across the
country as well, my face couldn't be more widely known if it had been
issued on a wanted poster."
Benton saw the problem immediately, and nodded.
"I'm so sorry, Ripley," he said, "but you're right. I daren't take you
with me. Damn, I should have anticipated this."
"We both should have. No point crying about it now. Spilt milk, and all
that."
Benton surprised me by standing to attention and saluting me.
"You deserve a bloody medal for your work here, and now this...."
"You'd do the same if our positions were reversed," I said.
"Perhaps, but you've really gone above and beyond for your country.
You've let the Count perform unspeakable acts on you, and even gone
through with a sham wedding ceremony."
"Others have given more," I said, feeling inexplicably irritated by his
dismissive description of the wedding.
"Yes, but you've lost something I'm not sure you can get back."
"What do you mean?"
"When you pretend to be something for long enough and with sufficient
conviction, there's a danger of you reaching a point where you're no
longer pretending. It's one of the known dangers of undercover work, and
watching you over the months that's clearly what's happened here.
Whether your masquerade by itself is responsible or whether it just
brought things to the surface that were in you anyway and best left
repressed I'm not qualified to say, but it's cost you your manhood.
That's a sacrifice no man should have to make, and for my part in all
this I'm sorry."
"This is an act," I said, exasperated, "I can still return to my old
life, and I intend to."
"I hope to God you're right," he said, his tone clearly indicating he
didn't think I was.
"So you'll slip away after dark?" I said, changing the subject.
"Yes. You've said the Count is a heavy sleeper, but if I'm going to have
to creep across your bedroom to the door while you're both in bed it
would help if his sleep was even heavier than usual tonight."
"I understand. Fortunately we have good reason to celebrate."
And we did. That night the wine flowed freely. When he woke the
following morning, Helmut had a very sore head. Sitting up in bed, he
let out a long groan.
"Ach, we really shouldn't have drank so much last night."
"It was worth it," I said, feeling a little the worse for wear myself.
"The Gestapo and the SS are finally gone from the village so we were due
a celebration."
"I suppose," he said, heaving himself out of bed. "I'm going to the gym.
That should clear my head."
Unlike Helmut I was a light sleeper. Even with the extra alcohol I'd put
away I'd still woken when Benton had emerged from the closet and watched
as he crossed the darkened bedroom, silently opening the door. He had
carefully closed it behind him, heading for the kitchen for the access
it gave to the garden at the rear of the castle. If I ever get back to
England the first thing I'll want to know is whether or not he made it
back too.
Opening my bedside table drawer I made a disquieting discovery. It was
empty. The Beretta had gone. Had Wagner taken it, or had Grost? Or
perhaps it was Benton? Yes, that made sense. He would have wanted to arm
himself if he could, and while the Beretta didn't have much stopping
power it was still better than nothing. I couldn't be sure it was Benton
who had taken it, but the likelihood of it being him was high enough
that I decided not to report the gun as missing. I'd just have to come
up with some excuse if Helmut asked me about it.
Thinking about Benton reminded me that I needed to check out the secret
passage if for no other reason than the chamber pot I'd given him was
still in there. Had he used it recently the smell would seep out into
the room, and I couldn't have that. As I soon discovered, he had.
Fortunately, he'd left it just inside the passage so it was a simply
matter to retrieve it and to flush its contents down my own lavatory.
Returning to the passage I saw that Benton had chalked something on the
wall: 'Kilroy Was Here'. Ah, the ubiquitous graffiti seen wherever
Allied forces had been. I chuckled at this, but when I turned and saw
what he had chalked on the opposite wall I laughed out loud:
Hitler has only got one ball
Goering has two but they are small
Himmler has something similar
But Joseph Goebells has no balls at all.
It was a version of the dirty ditty sung by Allied troops to the
'Colonel Bogey' tune. I remember my commanding officer once explaining
to a civilian outraged at such filth being voiced within her hearing
that it was a verse about golf. It's not a verse about golf. With the
days Benton spent in here I suppose he had to find some way to amuse
himself. The funny thing is I never knew he had a sense of humour. I
considered erasing Kilroy and this, then decided against it. Let it
remain for the mystification of any future archaeologist stumbling
across the passage.
Shutting the door on the secret passage for what I expected to be the
final time was also me shutting the door on my recent circumstances.
With Lexi, Benton, and Captain Wendt now all gone there was no one left
who knew I was really British, and no one to get any further
intelligence to London or to aid me if I was unmasked as a spy. For the
first time since escaping Stalag Luft XII, I was on my own.
*********************************
To be continued....
*********************************
Note: Yes, I know that bit at the beginning of this part about 'coming
quietly' probably doesn't work in German, which is what they were
actually speaking, but it gave me a chuckle so what the hell.
Vicky
- 12.03.2021
- 9
- 0
