Georgina and Susan.
1938. February. 0010 hours. The night closed in against Antje, and Antje closed her duffle coat tight against the wind. Nothing stirred behind the curtain of rain, only the lumbering shadows of shops and houses loomed in from the murk. Berlin was a bleak city by midnight. Antje concentrated on the rapid tapping of her shoe heels on the glossy pavestones. She was watching so steadfast that when the arm snapped out and grabbed her shoulder, she gasped in fear.
Black eyes peered out beneath a peaked cap. He powerful arm drew her closer to the face. There was a tang of alcohol as he exhaled. A chuckle.
“Halte, bitte, meine recht fraulein”
She twisted her coat tighter into her waist.
“Ja?” Her voice almost quivered. The rain pounded in the silence.
“Moment moment…Es spät…was machen Sie?” His voice was low and gruff. He spoke patronisingly. She could not yet see his face; stating hard, Antje carefully tucked a strand of blonde wet hair behind her left ear.
“Mich? Ich bin zu Haus Gehen…” As she spoke a few drops of water trickled off her nose.
“Unrecht. Was Machen Sie?” This time she could see the cruel grin. He kneeled so that he was staring directly into her face. As he moved, the stiff leathers of his jacked creaked. It was a well worn SS number. She spotted wear in the collar. An insignificant detail. Antje didn’t answer.
Ich denke, mein Kleine madchen, daß Sie etwas verstecken. Kommt mit mir”
Before Antje could protest, another pair of hands clamped themselves firmly around her mouth from behind. She felt her feet being lifted effortlessly off the ground. Catching the pale, blue gaze of the SS officers eyes, she saw cruelty.
The alley was narrow. Antje recognised the area; it was close to the SS headquarters. The entryway could barely fit one walking abreast, never mind two. She had been carefully gagged and handcuffed - one hand to the man in front, another to the man behind. The blue eyed officer had disappeared.
The darkness was inky, A hand she couldn’t see thrust round her throat, as Antje was slammed against the wall the back of her hair snared some loose bricks, she felt the sting of open cuts as the acid rainwater trickled down her scalp.
A laugh from one of the men stopped the attack.
“Ernst! Ich werde noch zu ihr angebracht!”
“Ah, ja, richtig!” With more laugher, she felt her left arm swing free. One of the men had released himself from the cuffs. Ernst, the man still bound to her, pushed himself against her. She felt the heat of his body through his overcoat, wet clothes hot and damp against her skin. The free hand swept her curly fairly hair off her neck, his lips found her neck tendons, he bit the flesh round her throat, his incisors nicked her collarbones. Antje screamed without a sound. The officer had gagged her well. Knee between her legs, the other handcuffed arm held her to the wall.. Using his teeth and other hand, he unbuttoned her coat and tore the fragile jumper off her chest. His breath steamed into her ears as trickles of sweat ran down her open breasts. His mouth found her throat again, found her cleavage; he bit harder and harder into the tender flesh. She threw hear head back, tears streaming down her cheekbones. His free hand had grabbed the fat beneath her ribs, his short nails tore and broke her skin. Antje didn’t know where the other man was.
Ernst’s fingers were fumbling with the stubborn zip on her skirt. He grasped again and again at her crotch as his impatience mounted. Just as he felt the flimsy cloth slide off her leg, a voice broke in.
“ERNST! ERNST!” Antje recognised the voice of the blue eyes officer. She heard a blow and felt Ernst stumble beside her, still bound at the wrist. There was more talking; more low voices. Just as she felt her other hand unlocked, the officer slid his cool grasp around her throat. Looking up, Antje caught his glace. He smiled a sinister smile.
The other two men were moving away. The smell of a freshly lit cigarette followed the departing men. Antje breathed a sigh of relief. He had saved her. Tears of relief welled up in her eyes.
Just then, she realised that her skirt was at her knees. She felt suddenly awkward of her white knickers and ankle socks; her knees buckled in against this hand which was creeping up her thigh. He did not loosen the gag. Forced against her, she felt his zip undone and trousers loosen. She felt them slip down, she felt the same powerful action tear her underwear off. It was colder than she thought.
He leaned into her, breathing heavily and murmuring into her ear about how much he wanted her. With one movement, she felt him force himself inside of her; a well practised gesture. His huge body trembled, he pushed himself harder and harder against her, thrusting deep inside of her. Antje didn’t cry, she didn’t move, barely breathed. The officer wrenched hard, cried loudly; she felt every muscle stiffen then relax as he pulled out of her. Standing in the drizzle, he dragged his trousers from his ankles, pulled the zip together and buttoned up the coat. He smiled. He walked away.