November, 2039….<br/><br/>Die Vierte Reich<br/><br/><br/><br/>‘The first step toward change is awareness. The second acceptance.’<br/><br/><br/>They made the world aware.  So very aware. It was a global moment of clarity. An epiphany at gunpoint. Acceptance would come later. Grudgingly. There was a phrase used by the US forces in Vietnam: ‘Grab them by the balls and their hearts and minds will follow.’<br/><br/>She smiled.  That phrase pleased her. Only from the mouth of a grunt; a foot soldier would such muscular wisdom derive. Her lips curled over her brilliant white teeth. It was a grin completely devoid of mirth.  Curiously lupine like, a She-Wolf clad in the black and silver of the Speziell Ast.  It was an innocuous name. Ambiguous, but when uttered, it was a cold dagger that pireced the breast and froze the blood.<br/><br/>She toyed with the nipple ring as she thought of the word breast. She was allowed such a luxury as Kommandant of the Speziell Ast Geheimpolizei. She had many and the smile became a tight line across her flawless countenance. She had earned it. In blood, she paid the Iron Price. The orden hung tight against her neck. Both reward and burden, for she was held to a higher standard by her superiors. What few remained…<br/><br/>She inhaled the cigarette, grateful for the Turkish tobacco. The smoke wreathed her features like the mist which shrouded the mountains on the horizon. The sun had yet to penetrate the fog, yet her gimlet stare sliced through all. Eyes like chips of emerald ice, arctic, merciless gaze that never wavered. Her boots clicked upon the polished stone of the veranda. She moved with a feline grace, her lithe body coiled savagery. Her full, ample breasts bounced slightly as she paced like a caged wolf. Her boots were soiled, the high, obsidian like gloss was smeared with a vulgar, viscous fluid. Eyes narrowed as the cigarette was crushed under booted heal. The Heckler Koch automatic swung arrogantly from her hip. The silver deaths- head skull buckle gleamed malevolently.<br/><br/>The   möse hure…cunt whore was sprawled on the bed. She had been given a reprieve from the lash. Blood splattered upon the walls, sheets and had flecked the Kommandants muscled abdomen and aureoles. She stepped back into the room, the French doors open, silhouetted by the rising sun, bathing her in its red, baleful gaze. The bitch had the audacity to ejaculate upon her, unable or unwilling to sustain her orgasm. She was a play-thing that no longer served her purpose. The automatic was out of the holster in one fluid motion and as the lacerated, flayed body began to twitch and convulse in mute awareness, eyes wide, urine pooled on the bed as  the pistol barked, one turquoise eye exploding in a mist of red and gray matter.<br/><br/>The door opened after the shot and the Feldwebel stood, automatic in her hand. The sergeant gazed at her Kommandant, statuesque in her thigh boots, the gun belt and Iron Cross, and a lone, silver nipple ring the only adornments to her otherwise nude, sculpted body. Heat blossomed in her loins. She glanced at the bed, slaughter personified. She looked at her Kommandant.  The Sergeant straightened, clicked her booted heels and holstered her weapon.<br/><br/>The feldwebel moved to the bed to study the best way to remove the corpse when the Kommandant spoke. Her voice authoritative and husky at the same time.<br/><br/>“Leave that bag of shit flesh. I have other, pressing needs for you to attend to.  Herfahren!”<br/><br/>The sergeant sprang forward and presented herself before her Kommandant. Her eyes straight ahead, using every fiber of her being not to gaze upon her breasts or thickening cock.<br/><br/>“Hinknien, unterziehen mich hinein ihrer Maul nun jetzt!”<br/><br/>The feldwebel did as ordered and knelt before her Kommandant and grasped her exceptionally thick cock in her hands. It was like grasping a small oak; her hands could barely contain its throbbing girth. And as instructed, she took it in her mouth as deep as she could. Gagging, choking flesh filled her throat. Her own sex was liquid heat. Her cock began to strain the fabric of her uniform.<br/><br/>The Kommandant threw her head back and laughed. Yes, rank had its privileges. Soon she would have to report for duty at the namenlos stalag. Clandestine operations were to be looked after and enforce discipline.  She excelled at administering discipline. She looked upon the bobbing head of the sergeant and noticed the crotch of her uniform trousers was bulging. Eyes narrowed. The Heckler Koch’s barrel was pressed against the temple of the slurping felderweb.<br/><br/>“Do not make the mistake of climaxing before I or you will suffer the same fate as that thing on the bed.”<br/><br/>The Sergeant controlled a shudder as the cold metal of the pistol was placed against her head. The equally chilling words made her nipples erect with sensual terror as she grasped the impossibly long cock with both her hands and worked the shaft with piston like strokes, forcing more of its length into her over-worked mouth.<br/><br/>The Kommandant’s climax was explosively sudden. Ejaculatory brutal in its intensity. A small lake of semen washed down the sergeant's throat and some spilled from her mouth and slid down her chin, dripping on the Kommandant’s boots.<br/><br/>The cock was removed from her mouth violently and as she looked up, the barrel of the pistol loomed before, like a large black tunnel.<br/><br/>“Feldwebel! Discipline! Police that semen. Nnun jetzt!”<br/><br/>The sergeant got on all fours and her pink flesh lapped up the pools of cum from the tips of the Kommandant’s boots and floor.<br/><br/><br/>The Kommandant smiled like the predatory She-Wolf circling her prey.<br/><br/>Rank did indeed have its privledges.<br/>