Die Vierte Reich (The Fourth Reich)
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		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Extreme =&gt; Extreme Small Groups =&gt; Topic started by: Cutter on 06-02-2009, 17:00:07</h2>
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				Title: <strong>Die Vierte Reich (The Fourth Reich)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Cutter</strong> on <strong>06-02-2009, 17:00:07</strong>
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				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.&nbsp; 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.’&nbsp; <br><br>She smiled.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; Curiously lupine like, a She-Wolf clad in the black and silver of the Speziell Ast.&nbsp; 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&nbsp; &nbsp;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,&nbsp;urine pooled on the bed as&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; 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.&nbsp; 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!”&nbsp; <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.&nbsp; 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>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Die Vierte Reich (The Fourth Reich)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Oniya</strong> on <strong>06-02-2009, 18:24:55</strong>
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				'Nameless' was what they called them.&nbsp; Not important enough to be prisoners of war, not useless enough to be ignored, they had been hustled from their homes and brought here - the stalag - while it was decided what to do with them.&nbsp; <br><br>Tatiyana clung to her name as part of her identity.&nbsp; Born of rural stock, she was physically fit, but she had also exercised her mind as well.&nbsp; It was that aspect that had attracted the attention of the invaders.&nbsp; "Rohstoffe," one of them had said before ushering her into one of the many transports.&nbsp; She had soon found that most of her fellow prisoners were similarly selected - smart enough to learn, fit enough to survive, but what?<br><br>Once they arrived, they were further divided - men to one side, women to another.&nbsp; The basic necessities were provided, but she hadn't seen sunlight for weeks other than through gritty windows or the wire-roofed 'exercise yard'.&nbsp; Her dark hair was cut almost mannishly short that first day, but had grown out enough to give a softer appearance over that time.&nbsp; It was a place designed to break the spirit, and among her block, she was the most steadfast, maintaining a certain 'spark' while the others fell into a gray routine.<br><br>Today, she had seen someone who was obviously of higher rank looking over the yard and talking with the guard.&nbsp; They had gestured in her direction, and salutes had been exchanged before the klaxon signaling the end of the exercise period sounded and all the women were returned to their bunks.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Die Vierte Reich (The Fourth Reich)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>VandalSavage</strong> on <strong>09-02-2009, 03:30:39</strong>
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				Today would be a day to explore the possibilities.<br><br>Hauptsturmführer-Doktor Gerlinde Baumann repeated that to herself, standing on the gravel path next to Exercise Yard D.&nbsp; It kept the cold away better than her gray winter coat.&nbsp; It kept her feet from fidgeting in their ink black boots.&nbsp; It reminded her why she had to be here in the East.&nbsp; And it had other uses.<br><br>It made the new ache between her legs seem right.<br><br>Gerlinde stood on the ground of the East and did not shiver and repeated that to herself in her head, and she watched the women of Barracks 7K through 7M wander like ghosts without a house to haunt.&nbsp; And though the ache – the new ache – dangling between her legs tightened its wires and began to buzz, it almost seemed right to her.&nbsp; <br><br>It seemed other things, too, the more she watched.&nbsp; Gerlinde put them out of her head, for now.&nbsp; She watched and she reminded herself she was here to consider the possibilities.<br><br>The wireless speakers affixed to the plywood barracks played “Die Fahne Höhe.”<br><br>“Pretty little ponies, round and round they go.” Scharführer Jungst sung in a murmur to himself, watching the women and rubbing his hands.&nbsp; “Ponies, ponies, in circles and rows.”<br><br>Gerlinde studied the women as well.&nbsp; It was her duty.&nbsp; Her authority was to select the best of them; the one with most possibilities.&nbsp; That was the task assigned her by the high authority of the Fourth Reich and its Leader, as Captain Doctor of this Stalag.&nbsp; Gerlinde had other duties once.<br><br>Those duties were for other places.&nbsp; In the jasmine and maple lamppost light of Munich, she had been a surgeon.&nbsp; When clouds of fire and steel had struck East, she had been a soldier.&nbsp; In a ward as white and sterile as a Kleenex box, she had been a wounded veteran.<br><br>Now she was in the East: In a place of conquered Russia that the Reich had cleaned of everything; of trees and roads, even a name.&nbsp; <br><br>She was a doctor here.&nbsp; A new kind of doctor.&nbsp; And she had a new ache.&nbsp; Jungst’s song summoned that ache to the new space between her legs: It felt like two wires, the kind coiled electric to lure in insects and end them with heat.&nbsp; It felt like a clenching circlet.&nbsp; It felt liquid and necessary and hot.<br><br>Gerlinde dropped a hand down to her black leather breeches and rubbed the place where they were getting tight.<br><br>The other hand put a cigarette to her mouth.&nbsp; She leaned its length on the place where the cherub bow of her lips was marked with a thin string of a scar running from their rim down to the side of her chin.&nbsp; She tilted her head forward.<br><br>Oberscharführer Holdt was ready with his trench lighter lit.&nbsp; Gerlinde took a drag.&nbsp; She glanced at him—a look of ice pack blue eyes below the russet wave of her hair.&nbsp; <br><br>It was a look he would take back to the barracks with him, Gerlinde figured.&nbsp; He would take it back to his bunk and he would fix it in his mind like a scrape of cinema and when the lights dipped low enough that he could pretend at being anonymous, Holdt would stroke himself off to that look.&nbsp; <br><br>Gerlinde liked that idea.&nbsp; In one of those other places—the places past, with different duties for a different woman than she was now—she might have minded it.&nbsp; Not now.&nbsp; Now she understood.&nbsp; She more than sympathized.&nbsp; She identified.<br><br>For now, Gerlinde thought to herself, she was not all that different from Holdt.&nbsp; The ache reminded her of this: The two wires of it were plucked violin strings with this empathy.&nbsp; The fluid thickening firmed that fact.&nbsp; She and Holdt were quite similar now indeed.<br><br>“So, are we done with selection, Doctor?” Holdt asked.&nbsp; <br><br>Gerlinde leaned back and took a deep drag.&nbsp; The smoke put a warm blanket on her lungs.&nbsp; She held it in her chest.&nbsp; It presented her large breasts to the four sergeants standing around her.&nbsp; Those breasts had been a burden when she was in the field as a soldier; overly large for her size, requiring the sturdiest elastic to support their huge weight.&nbsp; Now, Gerlinde rather liked them.&nbsp; She liked showing them.<br><br>Now, she understood well what it did to men to see them.&nbsp; <br><br>Gerlinde exhaled.&nbsp; The tobacco smoke tasted like Arabian spices and Byelorussian swamps.&nbsp; It reminded her of home; of her father’s study—a den of dark colors and gold bound books, where controversy and pipe smoke were permanent residents.&nbsp; She remembered well the debates she had with her father, over biology, the death of print, the price of gas, hair styles and politics.&nbsp; <br><br>Gerlinde shivered with the chill of the East and she remembered what her father had told her.&nbsp; The senior doctor Baumann had told Gerlinde that it was just a matter of time before the West would have to invade and subdue the East, just a matter of destiny and nothing more to be discussed.&nbsp; And she had protested then—had talked of the great international bodies that were the sinews of civil discourse between states; had declared the supremacy of the global market; had insisted that cultures were not so different after all.&nbsp; <br><br>And senior doctor Baumann had listened only long enough to refresh his pipe, and then had replied.&nbsp; He had responded without censure and without sorrow and without the faintest hint of malice that she was wrong.&nbsp; The West would always have to go East in conquest.&nbsp; It was not out of aggression or of defense.&nbsp; It was simple geopolitics.&nbsp; It was as basic as biology, he explained: <br><br>One body could not be in close contact with another without having to invade.&nbsp; To inhabit.&nbsp; To inseminate.<br><br>Gerlinde pulled the cigarette from her mouth and pointed with it toward Exercise Yard D. <br><br>“That one.&nbsp; The Russian.” Her tone was casual.&nbsp; It always was.&nbsp; Gerlinde had watched a man’s face run like wax in the hull of a burning tank and she had been begged for candy by children with no eyes.&nbsp; Gerlinde understood that there were only a few things in this world to be excited about.&nbsp; A simple duty like this was not one of them.&nbsp; Not even when, like this command would, that someone’s life would be ended.&nbsp; “The one with the soft, dark hair.&nbsp; Bring her.”<br><br>The cigarette returned to her mouth for another drag.&nbsp; Gerlinde’s dark lashes fluttered with the smoke stinging her blue eyes.&nbsp; The song drifting from the speakers hit a chorus, trampling the Stalag in robust jackboots.<br><br>Her father had been right, Gerlinde thought to herself.&nbsp; She understood this now.&nbsp; Her time as a soldier in the East had given her an inkling of this—a little listen to the soundtrack of aggression that pervaded the contact between occupier and occupied.&nbsp; But it was not until she was wounded and made a doctor at the Stalag that she truly understood: Not until the surgery.<br><br>Not until the new ache.&nbsp; The new ache, and the new flesh that had installed it in her.<br><br>As Jungst and Karstens brought the selected girl—Tanya? Tatiyana? Gerlinde was not sure of the name, not that it mattered—forward, that flesh stirred in emphasis.&nbsp; Seeing the girl did this, for several reasons:<br><br>She was a girl from the East; a conquered girl, taken by the West to be shaped by the will of the conqueror.&nbsp; She was a lovely girl; storybook black hair, fresh winter complexion, a body that looked licked into shape.&nbsp; She had been selected.<br><br>These reasons stirred Gerlinde’s new ache, and she had to drop a hand down to adjust what it did to her.&nbsp; Her hand dipped below where the leather of her tunic hugged her tremendous breasts and the many glints of her medals.&nbsp; Her fingers fit to the thigh of her breeches.<br><br>Gerlinde took hold of where that new ache gnashed its teeth: She took hold of her penis and her testicles.&nbsp; <br><br>As it did every time she touched her new flesh, it made Gerlinde think of the first time she had felt that addition to her body.&nbsp; She had stroked the wide, lazy tube; the lax sack with its round eggs; the electrifying head.&nbsp; Her fingers had trembled in nausea then.&nbsp; Her body had been rigid with shock.&nbsp; The doctors at the ward had told her that the penis and the prostate and the testicles would be necessary for her new assignment.&nbsp; Gerlinde had cried and had wondered why.<br><br>Now she understood.&nbsp; The new flesh made her understand.&nbsp; The new ache told her what she was doing in the East:&nbsp; She was here to penetrate.&nbsp; To seed.&nbsp; To explore the possibilities of shaping another’s flesh.<br><br>Gerlinde felt her cock to be seven inches long and thick as a pipe, already.&nbsp; The shaft thumped and sang as she became aware of it.&nbsp; The twin bands of her vas deferens surging with insistence on seeding tingled with the adjustment.&nbsp; Gerlinde shifted her swelling penis in the ruler-straight, seamless hug of her breeches, as the girl was presented to her.&nbsp; Her fingers clasped its throbbing.&nbsp; She moved her balls forward to where the crush of leather was more pleasurable than confining.<br><br>She examined the girl.&nbsp; Not just as a doctor.&nbsp; She was more than just a doctor now.&nbsp; The fact of this pulsed under her hand, pulsed harder as she took her hand away, pulsed wider as she stared at the girl.&nbsp; <br><br>“Strip for inspection.”&nbsp; Gerlinde commanded.&nbsp; The wind of the East hissed in its usual hard excitement, as if it knew what was about to happen.<br><br>That soon, the Kommandant would arrive.<br><br>That soon, the experiment would begin.<br><br>That, as the new ache growled and Hauptsturmführer-Doktor Baumann’s duties demanded, it was time to explore the possibilities.<br><br>Gerlinde Baumann’s new cock reached against her black leather breeches with fresh excitement for the girl from the East.<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Die Vierte Reich (The Fourth Reich)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Cutter</strong> on <strong>11-02-2009, 05:14:19</strong>
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				She examined the sheaf of documents whilst in transit to the Stalag. Her eyes scanned with precise, radar like sweeps. Each word absorbed. Each paragraph consumed. The subtle nuances of the sub-text of the cold, officially scripted report were not lost upon her. There were some in the hierarchy that balked at what was transpiring here in the East. Though they possessed the masculine flesh by birth, they failed to realize the underlying bedeutung of it. Yes, they grasped its vorhandensein when pissing or pleasuring themselves, but did they truly grasp its raw, undiluted potenz?<br><br>Her merciless green gaze narrowed.<br><br>No. <br><br>It would take the experiments here to dispel the clouds of doubt that shrouded their small minds like so much autumn mist.<br><br>She fingered the silver dagger affixed to her belt. She suppressed a shudder as her thoughts ran red with the blood of lacerated organs. To cut the disbelievers, deprive them of that gloriously aching bit of penetrating flesh.<br><br>Dummköpfe’s. They know not what they possess. <br><br>Her cock twitched. The violent images in her mind’s eye were like an aphrodisiac. <br><br>Her eyes fell upon one name and she allowed herself the luxury of a genuine smile.<br><br>Hauptsturmführer-Doktor Gerlinde Baumann.<br><br>Her credentials were impeccable. A bright star in this otherwise drab universe of scientific experimentation. <br><br>The transport rumbled into the Stalag and as she cast her cold, hard gaze from the grime encrusted window, she felt her testicles swell. The camp was suitably austere. As she steeped out, the cold greeted her like the tip of a finely honed knife. Bracingly sharp. The sky was gray and the ground iron under her booted feet as she strode purposefully, her stare as biting as the wind. The guards snapped to attention and the fear was most certainly alive in their vacant eyes.&nbsp; <br><br>Good. So very good.<br><br><br>The Kommandant was ushered into the room with little fanfare. She did not wish to disturb the doktor with a geheimpolizei entourage.<br><br>“Guten Morgen, Doktor. I see you waste no time. That is good.”<br><br>The Kommandant smiled, brilliant white teeth, her tongue flickering almost imperceptibly over her incisors.<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Die Vierte Reich (The Fourth Reich)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Oniya</strong> on <strong>11-02-2009, 05:51:35</strong>
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				In the exercise yard, Tatiyana had been steered away from the hallway to her bunk.<br><br>"Nein," the guard said in clipped tones.&nbsp; Two more guards fell into step, one more flanking her and one behind, making forward the only path to follow.<br><br>"What is this about?" she asked, but received no answer.&nbsp; Only a nudge with a sidearm in a precise portion of her lower back.&nbsp; It would be far enough from her spine to avoid paralyzing her, angled to avoid anything immediately fatal, but incapacitating her nonetheless.<br><br>Tatiyana walked.&nbsp; They were steering her towards the important person - now revealed more clearly as a woman in a gray winter coat.&nbsp; The thick wool did as much as it could to make all look alike, but there was no way to conceal the German's generous curves.<br><br><strong><em>"Strip for inspection."</em></strong><br><br>Tatiyana met those cold eyes with her own dark gaze.&nbsp; Obviously, the other intended this to be a torment, but she did not know General Winter the way that the prisoners did.&nbsp; Without even looking at the guards that had brought her over, Tatiyana started to remove her prison tunic, exposing breasts that peaked quickly in the cold, with tight reddened nipples on pale D-cups.&nbsp; Her eyes flicked to one side as the Kommandant arrived - every prisoner knew <em>that</em> form, and knew that her presence meant nothing good.<br><br>The dull-colored prison pants had to follow, dropping to show a peasant's strong legs tapering from the cradle of her hips.&nbsp; Like all prisoners, hair was kept at a minimum, clipped as close as practical.&nbsp; Little did Tatiyana know that she was the only one present with that triangle uninterrupted.<br><br><strong><em>“Guten Morgen, Doktor. I see you waste no time. That is good.”</em></strong><br><br>"What is going on here?"&nbsp; Tatiyana asked again, then attempted what little of the invaders' speech she knew.&nbsp; "Was machen Sie hier?"
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Die Vierte Reich (The Fourth Reich)</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>VandalSavage</strong> on <strong>11-02-2009, 06:27:19</strong>
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				There was no way Gerlinde could not feel surprised by the Kommandant's arrival, even though she had been expecting her.&nbsp; Intensity like that was always surprising.&nbsp; One could be as deliberate as one wanted to be when scrubbing one's feet to build a static charge, but when the blue lightning leapt, it always licked the heart with a tingle.<br><br>Whenever the Kommandant arrived, the excitement was always surprisingly strong .&nbsp; It blew bright green neon through her veins - the same color of bar signs and Friedrichshein tram stations.&nbsp; It made her back teeth feel freshly flossed - the kind of flossing that got the blood running down her throat.&nbsp; It sharpened every smell.&nbsp; Gerlinde saluted.&nbsp; Her arm stayed loose.&nbsp; But below, in her breeches, she was instantly rigid: High and pipe hard and on fire in the tenting leather.<br><br>"Guten morgen, Kommandant." Gerlinde was pleased to find that the only huskiness in her voice was the burr of the cigarette smoke.&nbsp; It was something that concerned her these days - a concern that was never grounded in any actual fact.&nbsp; She worried that there might come a masculine muddiness to her voice; some sullying of the light, almost crystalline pitch of her voice.&nbsp; It was unfounded.&nbsp; Gerlinde sounded as light as a ballerina's steps while two hen-egg balls ached fit to be hatching in her breeches; while ten inches of warm cock flesh demanded to be jacked.<br><br>Light as the left of a piano, she continued her report, switching ice floe eyes calmly from Tatiyana to the Kommandant.&nbsp; Gerlinde shifted her hips as she did, subtly rubbing the tender ridges, flares and shaft of her cock against its confines; making her pussy's lips kiss each other below.&nbsp; "A new potential solution for the virility enhancement experiment had me up all night."<br><br>She hid her smile at the inadvertent pun behind a drag of her cigarette, glaring at Tatiyana.&nbsp; The smoke quelled her shivering, as did the sight of the girl's nudity stinging tighter and tighter with the cold.&nbsp; Gerlinde congratulated herself.&nbsp; She had chosen a most hardy, most delectable, most versatile specimen - no filet mignon this rohstoffe.&nbsp; No.&nbsp; The most prime cut, farm raised and immensely succulent.<br><br>She dragged her eyes over the girl's breasts.&nbsp; Yes, Gerlinde thought; "immensely" was a fitting term.&nbsp; She blew smoke on them, on Tatiyana.&nbsp; "Sertoli and Leydig cells; I'd been ignoring using them in conjunction, instead just trying to boost virility and spermogenesis with testosterone.&nbsp; The trick to getting the most virile and copious sperm, though, is in enhancing the local source of that hormone - the Sertoli and Leydig..."<br><br>A consideration like a riding crop's crack cut her short.&nbsp; Gerlinde pursed her lips.&nbsp; The Kommandant needn't hear about all this; not now.&nbsp; She didn't need to hear Gerlinde prattle on like a junior lecturer just out of her abitur.&nbsp; Gerlinde's new ache - her newly flossed feeling; her new prostate, fresh as a first kiss and just as anxious - told her what the Kommandant needed.&nbsp; She needed it too, after all<br><br>Gerlinde flicked ash on Tatiyana's breasts.&nbsp; It was easier than caring.&nbsp; Caring led to wanting to make phone calls she could not make to loved ones she could never truly talk to.&nbsp; Caring meant journal entries that had to be crossed out and marking an 'X' on your back for any waiting knife.&nbsp; Hurting was easier.&nbsp; <br><br>She watched the girl's gigantic breasts tighten their nipples to embers and inhaled.&nbsp; "Anyway, let us see her clitoris, see that she is free of disease, and then have her washed.&nbsp; I have a clinic room ready for her."<br><br>A clinic room.&nbsp; Gerlinde's flesh pushed hard against the leather.&nbsp; <br><br>A clinic room - a needle - a knife.&nbsp; She dragged her incisor over her lush lower lip as her balls tingled.<br><br>An idea; an organ; a thousand boiling new urges.&nbsp; Gerlinde inhaled; snuck a glance directly into the Kommandant's eyes with the lusty blue electricity of her own - the neon color of Berlin brothels.&nbsp; She had so much ready for Tatiyana; so much to put inside her.<br><br>Gerlinde exhaled smooth as thick flesh sliding from the last of foreskin.
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