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Chapter Seventeen
It was only a few minutes before the train puffed slowly into the station, grey spirals of steam coiling up into the air: dragon’s breath, Patrick thought idly as he opened the door to an empty first class carriage for Irma and helped her up the steps.
“Gerta must have been impressed with your tongue to give us first class tickets,” Irma remarked with a smile as she tottered up the steps in her new navy-blue skirt. She was also wearing a light-blue blouse under the thin raincoat which was all Zettler had had to offer in his suitcase in the way of weather protection. She had abandoned her other clothes in the station toilet, stuffing them into the waste bin before eyeing herself in the mirror and deciding that she did look quite different in civilian garb. Patrick though was still in the ill-fitting uniform he had taken off Otto although he had turned the jacket inside out so that the lapel badges were hidden from sight.
Irma frowned as she sat down opposite him on the plush seat in the carriage and wondered if she should travel with him or risk striking out on her own. Was he going to be a liability in clothes which on close inspection were part of a uniform? She did not want to leave him as she had grown strangely fond of him over the past few days. At first, she had only had revenge on her mind when he had fallen into her clutches but she had been charmed by the way in which he had acquiesced to her demands and she relished challenging him further and exploring his dark side even more. But life, especially hers, came first in her list of priorities and she shivered at the thought of being dragged back into Germany and having to face Muller.
Irma had seen his handiwork once before. A secretary in his office had been found to have Jewish blood a generation back, somehow having skated through the security checks, and Muller had taken it as a personal affront that anyone of that hated race was working for him. The girl had been stripped in front of her fellow workers, tied over her own desk then whipped by Muller savagely with his belt, leaving red weals and welts decorating her pale back and bottom cheeks. After the beating, he had left her there for anyone to mistreat and abuse and nearly every one in the office, even those who had worked with her for some time and had ostensibly been her friends, had availed themselves of the opportunity. Irma had walked past after a meeting with Muller and seen one of the other secretaries busy sliding a large bottle of ink in and out of the girl’s pussy. She had nearly gone over and stopped it but a quick glance over her shoulder had revealed Muller watching her from the doorway to his office and so she had forced herself to walk on by nonchalantly as if it was an everyday thing to see.
The train rattled over some points, shaking her back to the present and she snapped her fingers at Patrick and announced, “I need to relieve myself. Come and drink!”
She was interested to see his reaction now that he was free and therefore able to refuse her demands. There was a slight hesitation and then he moved, sinking down onto his knees in front of her and she smiled widely, knowing that she still possessed power over him. She slowly slid her skirt up to her hips then told Patrick to slide her silken drawers down, feeling the fluttering touch of his fingers on her naked flesh with delight. She reached down and pressed his face into her warmth, sighing with pleasure as she felt his lips slide over her slit and press onto her soft labia.
Why was he doing this? Patrick could not explain for the life of him why he had obeyed her order and moved off his comfortable seat and down onto his knees in front of her. It was almost like she had mesmerised him into obedience even though he now had no excuse. Previously, he had been at her mercy but now they were equals, both on the run and seeking sanctuary yet still he wished, wanted, even needed to obey her every whim. He pressed his lips into her scented flesh and waited, excitement rushing through his veins at the thought of drinking her sweet essence once more.
A few moments passed followed by the slightest of susurrations and then came the rush of golden nectar into Patrick’s mouth. He gulped the flood down eagerly, feeling his cock harden as he tasted her heat. The flow seemed to last for ever but he did not spill a single drop, swallowing it all down and loving the sensuous degradation as it trickled down his throat. The rush slowed to a dribble and then to little droplets that he licked off her wet pussy lips, savouring them as if they were the finest champagne. Then, he heard her laugh and she was pushing him away roughly so that he fell at her feet while her skirt dropped back down and covered her glory from his feasting eyes before she bent and pulled up her drawers.
“Such an obedient little servant, aren’t you, squadron leader? So eager to please me!” she stated coldly, sitting back down on the plush upholstery and smiling as he slowly got up. “Will it be the same when we get to England?”
She was worried, he realised suddenly, looking into her shaded blue eyes. Did she think that he would desert her at the first opportunity? He was about to tell her that he was going to remain by her side for as long as she wanted when a sharp knock came on the carriage door and a ticket inspector walked in.
“Thank you both,” the short, rotund man stated after punching the cardboard tickets with his machine. “The buffet car is now open and a complementary breakfast comes with your first class tickets. It will take another hour or so to reach Berne so you have plenty of time to eat.”
“Thank you,” replied Irma, taking the tickets back and watching the inspector carefully just in case. Knowing how many agents Germany had floating around Switzerland was making her paranoid and she breathed a sigh of relief when the man shut the compartment door behind him loudly without whipping out a gun and taking them prisoner.
“Well, I’m starving, Irma,” stated Patrick, suddenly realising how empty his stomach felt.
“Too dangerous, Patrick. There will be more people there to notice us,” responded Irma worriedly.
“We are already on the train to Berne. Nobody is likely to have time enough to inform on us to one of your old friends!” Patrick expostulated, throwing his hands up in the air in exasperation as his stomach rumbled loudly.
“You go then. They are looking for two of us together and will have a picture of me from our records, not you,” suggested Irma.
“Are you sure? It will probably be one of those continental breakfasts so I’ll bring you a roll or croissant back,” replied Patrick, not even waiting for her nod before he got to his feet. He opened the compartment door and left hurriedly whilst Irma rolled her eyes at his impatience.
There was hardly anybody in the buffet car, Patrick discovered, and, as three were old ladies chatting away merrily on one of the tables and Mr Zettler was sat at another, it certainly seemed safe. A wooden counter was at the far end and he walked up to it and with his rudimentary German and a wave of his ticket, got the serving woman to understand what he wanted. She waved him to a table and he sat and waited only a couple of minutes before she came over with several rolls, butter, jam and a cup of coffee on a tray. Relaxing, Patrick spread the first roll liberally with butter and strawberry jam then tucked in hungrily, sighing with delight as his body got some food for the first time in ages.
He better bring me something back or I will make his life miserable, thought Irma, smiling slightly as she mused about teasing him towards coming and then letting his passion subside again. Twenty times or so should leave him absolutely desperate, she decided as the train slowed, crawled into a station and then pulled out again a minute or so later. She stretched out on the seat at an angle to get more comfortable and propped her head up against the wooden side and closed her eyes for just a minute, lulled by the rocking motion as if she was back in her mother’s arms.
A sharp slap round the face woke her and she started then froze as the ugly end of a pistol with a suppressor fitted to it poked into her ribcage hard.
“Good morning, sturmbannfuhrer,” hissed a wiry, little man with a broad grin that showed off his yellowing teeth. “Sleeping on the job? A fatal error, I believe!”
Another man, much taller and with jug ears lurking behind him, laughed nastily and added, “Ex-sturmbannfuhrer now, Willi. Even her uncle cannot save her skin this time!”
“Which is such a pity because it is a very pretty skin,” murmured Willi, stroking her cheek with his sharp nails.
“Willi Weber,” Irma breathed out, recognising him at last. He had been a colleague and acquaintance of her lover, often drinking together after one of their training sessions but she had not set eyes on him for several years.
“I think that Eric might be glad that he is dead rather than see his woman betray the Fatherland,” yelled Willi, spraying Irma’s face with spittle. She stayed silent, remembering a story Eric had told her about how the man had always been delighted to find a young Jewish girl to abuse, often in front of her parents in the knowledge that there was nothing that they could do to prevent him.
“Don’t forget that Gruppenfuhrer Muller would like her back alive if possible, Willi,” murmured the other man, leaning forward and dangling thick cords from his hand.
“Alive yes but he didn’t say anything about undamaged, did he, Franz?” commented Willi coldly before he barked at Irma to turn round and put her hands behind her back.
She hesitated for a second then complied, realising that there was no point in resisting as the two men would be far too strong for her. She would have to play for time and hope that they would drop their guard and give her a chance to escape. Hands bound tightly, they spun her back round and Franz inquired, “Where is the squadron leader?”
“Dead!” she hissed out angrily, acting for all she was worth. “When the plane crashed, I was thrown out but he was burnt to cinders in the fire.” Irma even managed to squeeze out a tear and then added to it as Willi muttered cruelly, “You do not seem to have much luck with men, Gessler. You are like a black widow causing their deaths it seems. Mind you, Eric was probably glad to die and get away from you and your insistence on being in control. He used to tell me what you got up to when he was d*unk after downing a few steins of beer. Not in control now, are you?”
Irma stiffened as the man’s hand crept up and started to unbutton her blouse.
“Will!” hissed the tall man but Weber just snarled at him to watch the door and make sure that they were not disturbed.
Irma tried to keep her composure as the buttons were undone, one by one and slowly, Willi’s pointed tongue flicking out from between his cracked lips as he grew excited. His hands slid inside and cupped her breast through her thin camisole and squeezed, making her open her mouth in reaction as pain shot into her system. Impatiently, he passed his gun back to Franz then took a switchblade out of his pocket and flicked it open. Irma’s breath stilled as he moved the shiny blade towards her and she wondered if he was going to ignore his partner and cut her throat but instead he sliced through the thin straps of the slip and pushed it out of the way so that he had unfettered access to her breasts. The cold edge of the knife touched her nipple which stiffened in automatic response then he took it way after giggling at the look of fear in her eyes.
“Maybe later, Gessler. Once Muller has finished with you and you are begging to be put out of your misery, I will have the pleasure of slicing little bits off and hearing you scream!” Irma tried to hide her terror at the thought of being given to him, staring back into his crazed dark eyes as his fingers mauled her soft flesh, stroking then pinching, caressing like a lover then squeezing tightly to make her gasp.
After a while, Weber pulled Irma to her feet and led her over to the window, pulling it down with one hand so that a brisk and chill wind swirled round the compartment. He pushed her head out and, for a dreadful moment, she thought that he was going to push all of her out and kill her. Instead, he gripped her neck tightly and bent her over then tugged her skirt up, baring her thighs to the cold wind. His hand crept under the elastic of her drawers and pulled them down and she moaned in despair, helpless to prevent his fingers crawling up her thighs and then pushing roughly into her wetness. Wetness? Why was she aroused? she wondered as soft, squelchy sounds echoed round the first class compartment, mixing with the noise of the wind. Cold assailed her face, freezing her tears of shame to her eyelids and veiling her view of the snow-dappled countryside that sped by. Where was Patrick? she puzzled, knowing that he must have finished his breakfast by now. Would he step back unknowingly into the carriage and be trapped or would he notice something was amiss? Then all thoughts of him were pushed out of her mind as she felt the heat of Weber’s cock slither up her thigh and nestle against her pussy lips as his fingers withdrew.
Weber grunted loudly as he thrust hard and felt her velvet innards clench tightly around his length. The heat of her body surrounded his hardness instantly as he plunged in and out of her slit, hand on the back of her neck to keep her under control whilst the other reached underneath and played with her hanging breasts, squeezing and slapping the soft hanging fruits. His hot breath wafted over the nape of her neck and Irma could hear his grunts as he rammed his thickness up inside her pussy hard and fast. Despite her predicament or maybe because of it, she felt her arousal grow with every deep lunge of his cock and she could not prevent her tight innards clenching around his shaft as ripples of pleasure shivered up through her flesh. His breath rasped in his throat suddenly and she felt him tense and then came the warm flood of spunk shooting up into her slit. Jet after jet fountained up into her body before he withdrew his prick slowly then wiped it clean on the cheeks of her arse.
“Your turn now, Franz,” Weber called out and Irma uttered a little moan of despair as the two men swapped places swiftly. A different hand gripped her neck and pushed her head down into the cold outside air as Franz muttered, “Not sure I want your sloppy seconds though, Willi.” His other hand slipped between Irma’s thighs and she pushed into it, wanting to come as semen trickled out of her swollen pussy lips. Franz laughed at her efforts then snatched his hand away and rubbed the sticky mess on his palm between her buttocks. He moved forward and a frisson of fear flickered through Irma’s mind as she felt his thick knob slide between her arse cheeks as he pulled them roughly apart. Her cries and squeals were lost in the rushing air outside as he thrust up into her anus, stretching her ring wide as his glans opened it up, lubricated a little by Willi’s slippery spunk. Irma was in agony and ecstasy at the same time as he ploughed her tight furrow relentlessly, slithering his fat cock in and out of her tight anal tube. Tears leaked from her ocean-blue eyes and were snatched away by the uncaring breeze as she was sodomised yet pleasure still flowed through her senses too and, as his cock swelled with need inside her bottom, she orgasmed abruptly. Tipped over the edge by the sore-sweet friction of his cock slithering in and out, Irma surrendered to her body’s desire and spasmed, pussy juices leaking out of her and staining the inside of her pale thighs. A moment later, feeling the shudders running through her, Franz followed, inundating her clenching anus with a rich dose of creamy come as he thrust deep inside her.
Afterwards, Irma was pulled back inside and pushed roughly down onto the seat and the window shut. She kept her head down, too ashamed to look up at her captors as they discussed her as if she wasn’t there.
“Nice and tight inside her arse, was it?”” inquired Willi with a lewd chuckle.
“Definitely though she won’t be once we take her back and Muller gets his hands on her. Did you see that girl he hung up on a hook in her pussy for a couple of days? Went out of her mind just about and couldn’t wait to tell him everything.”
Irma tried to blank it out and surreptitiously looked towards the compartment door and the tiny window above it. She was hoping to see a shadow there before Patrick came back in so that she could shout a warning but it remained clear and she frowned, wondering where on earth he could be. He had only gone to eat breakfast and that was at least half an hour ago so where could he be? Had he noticed something was wrong? Was he going to leave her to her fate and take the chance to escape on his own?
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