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In Enemy Hands
von Hentzau
The German soldiers moved forwards in a ragged skirmish line, their
progress impeded by the rubble that littered the factory yard. From her hiding
place on the second floor of the battered factory building Tonya slowly eased
her Moisin-Nagant forward. The forward part of the rifle had been swathed in
dirty gray sacking, to blend in with the battered concrete walls. The hole in
the wall was just big enough for her and her spotter, Georgy, to peer through
while staying back far enough to be hidden in the shadows.
Georgy, field glasses raised to his eyes, nudged her and pointed out the
officer. Tonya was thinking of a different tactic. Several of the Germans were
straggling. A constant rattle of rifle and machine gun fire, mixed with grenade
and mortar bomb explosions, sounded all around the ruined factory complex. Good
noise camouflage, Tonya thought. The Germans wouldn't notice her rifle shots.
She pointed out the last two stragglers to Georgy, the one farthest back
first. Then she pointed at the officer. With luck she'd drop the two stragglers
before anyone noticed, then take out the officer. With luck she would add three
more marks to the small notebook she kept in her breast pocket. There were
already one hundred and thirty one check marks in that booklet.
She sighted carefully through the telescope, placing the crosshairs on the
man's head. A head shot was more difficult than aiming for the man's chest, but
he would go down without a chance to warn the others.
A curious sound, like a thump and a grunt combined, distracted her. She
turned her head to see Georgy slumped over, blood streaming from the back of his
head. The motion probably saved her life, for it changed the angle of her helmet
just enough that the bullet that should have killed her glanced off, though it
delivered a mule kick in the process. Tonya didn't know that a bullet had just
ricocheted off her helmet. All she knew was that one moment she was looking in
surprise at Georgy, the next the world disappeared in blinding light, then
darkness.
When Tonya started to come back to consciousness she felt as if she'd
become a rag doll, being pulled left and right by a pair of toddlers. She heard
voices. At first it was gibberish. Then, regaining more of her senses, she
realized it was German. Tonya had learned a bit of German, the crude, simple
language German soldiers spoke. She couldn't speak it well, fumbling for the
words. But she could understand enough it to make sense of what they were
saying.
"She's coming to," one voice said. "Better tie her hands."
There was more tugging and Tonya realized her pullover shirt was being
removed. Then her wrists were being crossed and bound together. Tonya opened her
eyes to see half a dozen haggard faces looking down at her. Some were framed by
the hated coal-scuttle helmets, the symbol of the German invaders. Others were
bare headed. All needed shaves and all looked down at her in various degrees of
hate or disgust.
"Get her up," another voice said. "Get a rope over that beam."
There was some scuffling around, then the loose end of a rope was dangling
over her. Hands reached out to loop the rope under her wrist bonds and tie it.
Then the rope was rising, pulling her arms with it. She fumbled her way to her
feet to relieve the strain on her arms. She was afraid for a moment they were
going to pull her off her feet and let her dangle, but they stopped when her
arms were almost straight up, bare feet still on the floor. They'd already taken
off her boots.
She looked around as best she could. She was in a basement, probably a
storeroom of a factory. Rubbish was scattered all around, as well as bedrolls. A
makeshift stove had been set up in the corner, the stovepipe cobbled together
from bits and pieces, held together with wire.
A dozen disheveled German soldiers stood looking at her. She became acutely
aware that she was standing in front of them in her bra and trousers.
"Finish stripping her," an older looking German said. He wore the uniform
patches of a feldwebel, a first sergeant.
Two of the younger Germans leapt to obey. One undid her trousers while the
other grasped her around the hips from behind to keep her from resisting. Then
the pair of them pulled her trousers down, followed by her woolen underwear and
finally her cotton panties. One of them then pulled out a jack knife and slit
the straps of her bra. She glared at him. Bras were hard to come by in
Stalingrad. Being stripped in front of these louts was bad enough, but they just
ruined her last bra.
The two young soldiers stepped back. The Feldwebel was taking a good look
at her. Tonya had a good, robust frame, not like those skinny Berlin strumpets
the Nazi officials seemed to favor. Even on reduced rations Tonya was nicely
filled out. The Feldwebel walked around, inspecting her. He gave her rump a slap
as he passed behind her. She had a good, round ass. And surprisingly full,
pendulous breasts. A good peasant woman, the Feldwebel thought.
"Such nice girl to be carrying a gun," he said in German. "Sprechen zie
Deutsch?" he asked.
Tonya thought it best not to reveal that should understood much of what
they said. She looked back at him blankly.
"Such a nice girl," he repeated, in badly accented Russian. "Why didn't you
stay home and wait for the glorious German Army to liberate you? Once we'd done
with these pigs you Russians consider your menfolk we'd have found some good
stud to keep a breeder peasant like you in babies. Such a shame to have to waste
good breeding stock."
"Why do you do it?" he asked, fondling one of her heavy breasts. "Why do
your Bolshevik tyrants send women like you out to fight a man's war, to snipe at
us from hiding like cowards? Why do you do it?"
Tonya glared into his eyes.
"When you fight for your life, you use what you have."
"Well, we are going to use what you have," he said, giving her breast a
meaningful squeeze, "and we are going to use what you have against you. We are
going to make you suffer. This wonderful body of yours offers so many
opportunities to inflict pain upon it. My men are angry. You snipers have killed
a dozen of their comrades in the past week. For all we know, you may have killed
some of them. My men want revenge, and they mean to take it on you. Before we
finish you will beg us to kill you, but it won't be that easy."
He paused, still squeezing her breast.
"Unless," he said softly. "We can make this easy for you. You must realize
that either way, you're dead. But we can make it quick. Just a quick bullet. No
pain. What can you tell us of Chernikov? Are you part of Chernikov's unit?"
She tried not to act surprised. Chernikov had become a legend among the
Russian troops, a bogeyman to the Germans. The Russian propaganda agents kept an
air of mystery about their crack sniper, the one who'd killed over a hundred
Germans, by only referring to Chernikov by one name.
How typical of the Germans, Tonya thought. They naturally assumed Chernikov
was a man. Tonya tried her hardest to show no reaction. She was in a bad
situation. It would only be worse if they knew they had the sniper Chernikov in
their hands.
"Helmut," the Feldwebel called to one of his men. "Do something about this
louse farm she's got."
Helmut said something to the two men nearest him. They each picked up a
piece of rope and approached Tonya. They knelt down and each tied one end of his
rope to one of her ankles. Then they scooted back a short ways and pulled hard
on the ropes, spreading her legs wide. Helmut approached her, carrying a candle.
Tonya was rendered helpless as Helmut lowered the candle towards her nether
regions. The two men holding the ropes were leaning back with all their weight.
Tonya's feet were almost off the ground. There was nothing she could do but grit
her teeth as Helmut slowly passed the candle back and forth under her crotch.
She felt the heat of the flame against her lower lips and the tender folds
between them, smelled the acrid odor of burning hair. As long as he kept the
flame moving it was bearable. But whenever Helmut paused the heat quickly became
unbearable and she started to squirm desperately to escape it, much to the
amusement of her audience.
Fortunately for Tonya, Helmut was mostly concerned with singeing off her
pubic hair than torturing her. He finished up without doing too much damage.
"There you go, Feldwebel," he said, standing up. "Fried lice and a naked
clam."
The watching Germans laughed and made crude remarks.
"Good," the Feldwebel said. "We'll start on that big, round Russian ass of
hers."
On the Feldwebel's order the rope holding Tonya's arms over her head was
untied. The two men holding her ankle ropes also released them. One of the
Germans stepped forward and untied her wrists. For a brief moment she was free,
but before she could even consider resisting she was hustled over to one of the
thick wooden pillars that supported the floor overhead.
Roughly she was slammed breast and belly first against the splintery wood.
Her arms were quickly raised up and wrapped around the pillar, then tied. Her
ankles were done next, then finally a rope snugged her belly up against the
pillar.
Several of the Germans had been poking about the rubble and trash that
littered the basement. One came up with a good long length of thin rope. It
appeared from the rough texture to be sisal hemp. He pulled out his knife and
cut off nine pieces, each about a meter long. The pieces were then bundled
together. Another length of the rope was wrapped around the bundled ends,
binding the last ten centimeters or so together and forming a handle.
The German gave the makeshift cat'o'nine tails a few practice swings
against another pillar, one set where Tonya could watch him. Satisfied that the
whip would hold together he finished it by tying an overhand knot near the end
of each strand. Then he took up position behind and to Tonya's left. The other
Germans all gathered around.
The first stroke landed across her shoulders. She gasped at the sudden
pain. A second blow quickly fell across her buttocks.
"Take your time, son," the Feldwebel said. "Don't hurry it. Let her feel
every stroke before you land the next one."
He took three more strokes. Then the Feldwebel stopped him.
"Every man takes two strokes now," he said. "You and you. Take the first
turns, then relieve the guards so they can get in their licks."
One after another the soldiers took their turns. Tonya clenched her fists,
closed her eyes and struggled to stifle her cries, determined not to give these
scum the satisfaction of seeing how much pain they were inflicting. But with
each blow the need to give in and scream her lungs out grew stronger.
Finally they'd all had their turns. The Feldwebel came last. He took two
powerful swats directly against Tonya's rump. Then he stopped.
"Enough of this," he said. "Let's try something different." He gave some
curt orders that Tonya didn't catch.
She was untied from the pillar. But her relief was brief. Quickly she was
positioned between two of the wooden posts and the ropes retied around her
wrists. Two of the Germans found makeshift stools to stand on and the ropes were
passed up to them. They tied the ropes near the tops of the pillars, pulling
them tight before they did so. Tonya's arms were stretched out and upwards.
Ropes were fastened around her ankles. Two Germans, working in unison,
pulled her legs apart, until she was standing on tiptoe. The ropes were tied off
at the base of each pillar. Tonya was left in a taut spread eagle, absolutely
unable to move, every part of her fully exposed to the leering eyes of the
Germans. Every part of her defenseless against whatever they might want to do.
Tonya was particularly aware of how exposed her most intimate parts were.
Not only had the candle removed the sparse camouflage of hair but with her legs
spread so wide she was opened up, every tender pink fold presented to her
barbaric audience. She couldn't help but notice how many of the Germans' eyes
were directed towards her mid-section.
"Look what I found, Feldwebel," a young soldier said. In his hand he
carried a piece of rubber belt, part of a longer loop that had once powered a
machine. It was two centimeters wide and at least a meter long. The soldier gave
it a few test swings, whacking another soldier on the back of the helmet as he
did so.
"Hmmm. Too long I think," the Feldwebel said, taking the rubber belt from
him. He bent it double and then took his bayonet to the bend. It was difficult
cutting the tough, reinforced rubber.
He handed one piece back to the soldier who'd found it. The other piece he
swung back and forth a few times. Then, without warning, he swung it, hard,
against Tonya's right breast. Partly from pain and partly from surprise she
screamed at the top of her voice.
"Yes, that should do it," the Feldwebel said. He aimed a vicious upwards
stroke at her crotch. The impact almost brought her off her feet and produced a
second scream. "Yes, that seems about right. OK, one in front and one in back."
The Germans divided up, some in front of Tonya, others behind her. They
began taking turns. One would aim a blow with the rubber strap at he shoulders,
buttocks or the backs of her thighs. Then one in front would aim a blow at her
breasts or her belly, her crotch or her thighs. On it went, front then back.
Then front again. Tonya lost count of the blows inflicted. And then she lost
consciousness. The last thing she heard as the room faded into blackness was
crude laughter.
Tonya slowly regained consciousness. She was lying in a heap on the cold
concrete floor.
"I think she's coming round, Feldwebel" she heard a voice say. She heard
shuffling feet approach. Then hands grasped her under her arms and lifted her
up. They walked her a short way.
Then she law lowered into a position straddling something. She was allowed
to lean forward against something hard. Her sore, bruised breasts flopped over
the top of it.
As she came more aware she opened her eyes and looked around. It took a
moment to focus. She was surrounded by half a dozen Germans, the Feldwebel
standing directly in front of her. They had place her on a straight backed
wooden chair, facing backwards so that she was straddling it. Her breasts were
resting on the top bar of the back. spilling over it.
"Better secure her," the Feldwebel said.
Several of the Germans moved forward. Two of them tied her ankles to the
front legs of the chair. Then one of them ran rope around the back of the chair
and her torso. A length of thin rope was produced. One of the Germans tied an
end to the bar between her breasts. He took it over one breast, under the bar,
back over the breast and under the bar again at the center, cinching it down
tightly. Then he took it over the other breast and back. Back and forth he went,
constantly tightening the rope until Tonya's breasts were firmly bound to the
top of the chair. He tied it off. The rope that passed behind her back was
removed, so that her upper torso was only held in place by her bound breasts,
bound so tightly they ballooned out beyond the rope and were turning a dark
red..
A half dozen Germans gathered around her. The Feldwebel passed out
cigarettes, then lit them, one after another. The soldiers each took a few
drags. Then one of them drew hard, flicked the ashes off the end of his
cigarette and touched the glowing tip to the rounded curve of one of Tonya's
breasts. She whimpered and tried instinctively to pull away from the source of
pain, but the rope was much too tight.
Another German did the same to Tonya's other breast. Again she struggled
against her bonds. The soldiers began a steady, rhythmic cycle of torment as
they burned first one breast, then the other. Soon Tonya was inflicting almost
as much pain upon herself in trying to pull her breasts from the unyielding
rope.
The first round of cigarettes finished the Feldwebel pulled out the pack
and discovered there were only two left.
"Well, that'll be enough," he said passing them to two of the men.
They lit up, took a few drags from the cigarettes. Then in unison they each
sucked hard, flicked the ash off. Nearing exhaustion Tonya watched helplessly as
the two glowing points approached the small, brown nubbins of her nipples,
almost lost now at the ends of her swollen boobies.
Simultaneously the burning tips touched her sensitive flesh. The Germans
held them there until they'd gone out. Tonya threw her head back and expended
the last of her strength in one unearthly scream, then let her head loll forward
in despair.
"Time to get some sleep, boys," the Feldwebel said. "Better secure her for
the night." He motioned several of the men over to him and spoke briefly to
them. Tonya couldn't hear what they were saying, but from the grins that broke
out on their faces she knew it was nothing good for her. The men came over and
untied her from the chair. They helped her to her feet.
Tonya was backed up to one of the wooden pillars. Her ankles were quickly
tied at the base. Then her arms were raised up over her head and her wrists
tied. One of the Germans had busied himself with hanging a pulley from the
overhead beam about two meters in front of Tonya. A length of coarse hemp rope
was run through the pulley.
The end of the rope was taken between Tonya's legs and up along her butt
crack. A loop was tied around her waist. With that end of the rope secured
another German brought an empty bucket. He took up the slack in the rope until
it pressed firmly against Tonya's crotch, splitting her pussy lips. He tied the
bucket to the rope a meter off the ground and left it hanging.
The Feldwebel came over and inspected their preparations. He gave the rope
a jerk. It elicited a satisfying reaction from Tonya. He picked up a loose brick
from the floor and held it over the bucket. He paused for a moment so Tonya
could think about what he was about to do. She braced herself. But there was no
way she could prepare for the bolt of pain that radiated from her crotch as the
two kilo brick hit the bottom of the bucket and the coarse rope bit even more
sharply into her most sensitive organ. She screamed, to the delight of the
Germans.
"Good, good," the Feldwebel said. "Whoever's on watch, if she looks like
she's going to sleep, drop another brick in the bucket."
Tonya soon realized the Feldwebel was making a bad joke. There was no
chance of her going to sleep in the position she was in. The rope dug viciously
into her pussy. With her wrists and ankles fastened it pulled her body forward
into the shape of a bow. The bindings dug into her wrists and ankles, the strain
on her shoulders was agonizing. The rope across her belly made it difficult to
breath.
At first the Germans amused themselves by tugging on the rope or dropping
small bits of brick into it, to watch and laugh as she flinched. But eventually
the cumulative exhaustion of days upon days of fighting amid the ruins sent all
but the assigned guards to their bedrolls. The minutes and seconds ticked off
with glacial slowness for Tonya as she prayed for an end to her torment. By the
time cold gray morning light filtered down the stairwell she was nearly out of
her mind from pain and exhaustion. She barely noticed the pounding footsteps in
the stairwell.
A messenger came hurrying down the stairs. He handed a note to the
Feldwebel, then glanced at Tonya. And then he glanced again, taking a longer
look, a nasty grin cracking the grime that coated his face.
"Go ahead," the Feldwebel said. "Take a shot at her. She's a sniper we
captured."
The messenger approached, inspected the captive. Tentatively he slapped her
right breast. The pain in Tonya's crotch was so all consuming she barely
reacted. He gave the bruised and burned member a harder swat.
"C'mon, boy," one of the soldiers called. "You can do better than that. If
she was still out there she'd be trying to kill you today. For all we know she
might be the one who splattered Horst's brains over half the squad the other
day."
A look of sheer hatred cross the man's face. He began battering away at
Tonya's breasts. Finally the Feldwebel pulled him away.
"Ok, that's enough. They need you back at company headquarters." he said.
"Get your gear together, men. We move out in thirty minutes." He came over to
Tonya. "We had more entertainments for you, sniper, but unfortunately we're out
of time." He turned to several of the soldiers who'd gathered behind him. "Like
we discussed. Helmut, you're in charge of this operation."
"Take her down, boys," Helmut said to his companions.
The soldiers undid the rope around Tonya's waist, letting it run between
her legs as the heavy bucket fell. Tonya found her legs were numb and wouldn't
support her. They collapsed, leaving her hanging by her wrists. The soldiers
undid the wrist ropes and let her fall into a heap on the floor. Without giving
her a chance to rest she has dragged a short way, then propped up on her knees.
Tonya's wrists were tied behind her back. They stood her underneath a heavy
wooden beam where a pulley had been rigged. One of the Germans was standing on a
wooden barrel, hanging another pulley from a beam. When he was finished hanging
the pulley he ran some rope through it. Then he came over to Tonya, again
standing on the barrel, and ran the rope through the pulley over Tonya's head.
He left the loose end dangling in front of her. He shoved the barrel back to
where it had been.
Another German approached. He'd been fussing with rope, though Tonya
couldn't see exactly what he was doing. Now he was holding not one but two small
hangman nooses. Both nooses were now tied to the hanging rope. They dangled in
front of Tonya's bust.
The German took a short piece of rope and joined the two loops with it. He
slipped the nooses over Tonya's tortured breasts, one on each, and snugged them
down. Yet another piece of rope came out of his pocket. This one he slipped
under one of the nooses on the outside of Tonya's breast. He tied it and then
took the loose end around behind her back, slipped it under the other noose and
tied it off.
"We wouldn't want you slipping out and falling," he said in German. "You
might hurt yourself."
He laughed maliciously at his own joke.
Two more Germans came up to Tonya. One carried a long, straight stick,
rounded, like it might once have been part of a flagstaff. He held it up in
front of Tonya and after some muttered remarks to his comrade and some gesturing
marked the staff at a point near the level of her breasts. Then they took it
away.
Tonya saw that two more Germans had joined the rope rigger. They were
lifting the wooden barrel that he had earlier used for a stool. When the top of
the barrel was a bit more than shoulder high it was tied off to the other end of
the rope that her breasts were fastened to. The rigger tied it, then made some
small adjustment. At his signal the other two let it drop. Tonya felt the nooses
tighten around her battered breasts, then start to pull up on them.
Tonya had been trying to persuade herself that even the Germans weren't
evil enough to do what it appeared they were planning to do. But now there was
no denying it.
The Germans left, to return a few minutes later each bearing buckets of
water. One after another they poured the contents into the barrel. With each
bucket the nooses tightened up and pulled hard on her breasts. Soon she was on
tiptoe, trying desperately to keep contact with the floor and take some of the
strain off her breasts. Finally she was free of the floor, slowly rising
upwards. In a panic she feared her breasts might rip away. But the rope that ran
behind her back began to cut into her flesh and reminded her of its presence. It
took some of the strain off the tortured members.
The Germans continued adding water, but more slowly, watch Tonya's ascent.
When her feet were a meter off the floor they stopped, then dipped some water
out until she hung motionless.
The Germans with the flagstaff returned. It had been trimmed off and the
end whittled into a point. One of them also carried a wooden block in which a
hole had been bored. He placed this block beneath her feet. With growing horror
Tonya watch the other German set the blunt end of the pole in the block and then
position it, sharp end up, directly between her legs.
More rope was brought out. Tonya's ankles were seized and held on either
side of the pole while all three were joined by loops of rope. Then ropes joined
her knees, again trapping the pole between them. A final strand wrapped around
her thighs.
On a signal the Germans at the barrel began dipping water out. As the
weight of water lessened Tonya began to descend. One German knelt in front of
her, holding the end of the pole and watching her progress intently. She felt
the sharp tip enter her vagina. Instinctively she tried to kick.
"Stay still!" one of the Germans barked at her in bad Russian. "If you
struggle you will only cut yourself up inside and make it worse. It will be bad
enough, soon enough. Don't rush it."
Tonya went limp. He was right, she realized. She could feel where the point
had dug into her from her brief struggle. She tried to remain motionless to keep
it from cutting her more. She was resigned. She was going to die, horribly and
soon.
The Feldwebel came down the stairs, followed by most of his men. They
surrounded Tonya, grinning wickedly as they took in her situation.
"Well, sniper bitch," the Feldwebel said. "If we had more time we would
introduce you to some real German pricks. But this one will have to..."
"Raus! Raus!" a soldier shouted from the top of the stairs. "Russians
attacking!"
The Germans around Tonya scrambled to recover their weapons and ran for the
stairs. The Feldwebel slowly drew his pistol from its holster. For a moment he
pointed it at Tonya. For a brief moment she thought, she prayed he would finish
her here and now. But instead he pointed it at the barrel and fired one shot. A
stream of water spurted out, near the bottom.
"Auf wiedersehen, sniper," the Feldwebel said quietly, then turned and
followed his men up the stairs.
Outside the sounds of gunfire increased, the ripping sound of the PPSh 41's
and the slower, heavier sound of the Degtyarev light machineguns. Tonya felt the
staff pushing its way, ever so slowly, into her as water emptied from the
barrel. She watched the stairwell in desperation.
"Hurry, comrades," she thought. "Please hurry......."
The End
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