Gunther's captivity

Gunther, you at a dummkopf, he thought to himself. His whole body was frozen and he knew he was going to die in a matter of minutes, or an hour if he was unlucky. Three hundred miles west of Newfoundland, the Atlantic Ocean was not a hospitable place. Especially not for a man wearing only the upper half of the uniform of the Kriegsmarine. His balls were already numb and he could barely remember the incredible sex with that strange fräulein, wonderful as it was.

She had appeared on the deck of the boat while they were surfaced and recharging the batteries; he was on watch. The worst part was that it wasn't screwing her that had gotten him in trouble. It was the brilliant beam of light from which she appeared, and later into which she disappeared. They were scouting the routes that Canadian ships were using to ship goods to England, and the U-24 was not to be seen. Gunther's sexual adventure had broken the blackout – twice – and the Captain had made him pay the price.

The odds of him being found in the heaving November seas of the Atlantic were essentially zero, which is why he was so totally startled when rough hands grabbed him and hauled him out of the water. He had vague impressions of nets and fishing gear as he was dragged below decks, peeled out of his wet clothing, and wrapped in a blanket next to the vessel's engine. It was noisy, but it was warm. He slept.

He could not feel the rocking of the boat when he awoke; in fact he was on a bed. He attempted to rub his head but his hand was stopped by something on his wrist: a handcuff. He was handcuffed to the metal frame of a bed. His left hand was free, but he wasn't going anywhere without the other hand. He tested it; cuff and bed frame were secure.

The room was made of stone, thick stone if the thin beam of sunlight coming through the tiny window was any indication. There was a bed, several stacks of cardboard boxes, and a solid-looking wooden door. He had a blanket over him, but beneath it he was still naked.

The door opened and a woman came in with a bedsit tray on which he could see a bowl and a mug. The unmistakable smell of oatmeal and the delicious aroma of coffee confused his nostrils. The woman said something cheery in English.

"I don't understand," said Gunther.

She switched to badly-accented Dutch. "I asked how you were."

"I am chained."

"Jan and I wanted to be sure you were in fact a victim of accident and not of German 'justice'. Which is it, seaman?"

Gunther knew a lie, but settled for a half-truth. "I was thrown overboard by my Captain."

"In the Kriegsmarine? What did you do, piss in his coffee?"

"Ha! No, that would have improved its taste!" He stared longingly at the coffee cup; that was obviously the real stuff.

She shared his laugh and handed him the bowl of oatmeal. He wolfed it down; at least it was food.

"Then you must have screwed with his woman."

"Why would you say that?"

"You were found with no pants, and you still have your stiffness. It did not come down when Jan and his boys found you, and it has not come down since you were brought here. That is a feat of stamina, especially for a German."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

She laughed a short sharp laugh. Now that his belly was full, or at least held a brick of noxious oat-concrete, he looked at her. She was pretty for a Dutch woman, with her black hair in that ridiculous up-curl they so liked and peasant-style dress covering a figure that would have been rounder if anyone had enough food these days to be round. She was perhaps thirty, with hips that had obviously borne at least one child, and her face was a bit manly but still beautiful - in a Dutch way. Now that his stomach was no longer complaining his prick was.

The next one you want will obey you completely. That was what the woman he had fucked repeatedly last night had told him just before she was taken away and he had gotten into this mess. It was time to test that.

"Untie me, woman."

She laughed again. "Even if Jan didn't have the only key, I wouldn't. Do you think I'm the sort of woman who would leave herself alone with a naked German in a lighthouse? You are a dummkopf, seaman."

So Gunther had correctly understood the mystery woman's real meaning. "Give me the coffee then, and undress."

She handed him the cup, but laughed in his face again. "Do you think I would undress for you, Teutonic pig?" She unlaced the corset she wore over her white linen top. "I am a happily married woman." The leather corset dropped to the floor and she pulled the top over her head, revealing smallish but serviceable breasts. "I will not let you seduce me." She unbuttoned her skirt and let it fall to the floor, then slipped off her panties and stepped out of them. She stood before him in nothing but white socks, garters and shoes, mercifully not those ridiculous wooden things the Dutch were famous for. He noted the wild mess of hair that partially concealed her womanly charm. "You are not good enough for a Dutch woman."

He pulled the blanket back to show off his firm erection. "Now make this wet."

She knocked the cup of hot coffee, mercifully nearly empty, onto his crotch.

"Wet enough for you, pig?"

"My coffee!"

She looked at him sternly. "I won't let it go to waste."

She knelt down and licked the coffee off his cock and crotch, taking special care to put both his balls in her mouth and suck them. Gunther couldn't tell if the "Mmm" sounds were for him or the liquid.

Gunther, you are a dummkopf, he said to himself. You wasted your talent on this Dutch cow when you could have had any woman you wanted. Still, it is better to have a real woman in your bed than a dream in your head.

"You know what I want, woman."

"I don't care what you want." Her tongue lapped lightly at his scrotum. "And my name is Britt." She grabbed his shaft and gave it several pulsing squeezes.

"Tell me how much you want me."

"I don't want you." She took his tip in her mouth and massaged it with her tongue. "You are a filthy monster." She climbed into his lap and began stroking his cock with both hands. "The thought of even touching you disgusts me." She paused long enough to place his hands on her tits, then pushed him over on his back. "Everything about you is totally awful." She ground his member against her shaggy cunt-hair, letting her juices lubricate it in preparation for the obvious. "In fact, I absolutely hated it when you **** me."

Britt sank her teeth into Gunther's neck, leaving several painful red marks. She slid upwards along him, leaving a trail of cunny juice, then turned and shoved her dripping pussy against his mouth. "The most horrible part," she said as she ground against his face, "is that you took me in every hole and totally humiliated me." Her lips wrapped around his cock and slid up its length forcibly until his helmet struck her tonsils. She rapidly worked back and forth several times, making his cock pulse and tremble while the lapped at her pussy with equal vigor.

She was almost out when he came, filling her mouth with his jizz. A moment later her wet pussy pushed against his mouth and her wad of cum shot onto his tongue.

"I have mastered you, Dutch woman."

"Not yet you haven't, pig. I said you **** me in every hole, and I don't lie."

Gunther was a bit surprised that his erection hadn't gone down even after that. Still, it was somehow right. This Dutch whore wanted every hole, he would give her every hole. He pushed her off him and held her face-down on the bed, using his position between her legs to keep them separated. Then he grabbed her cheeks and forcibly shoved himself into her extremely tight ass.

"Nein! ... unh! ... Nein!" Each thrust brought a scream. And while she was shouting "Nein!" her tone was definitely screaming "Ja!" Gunther pounded her mercilessly until he came not once but twice inside her. When he pulled out she whimpered "No more," but held her reddened ass up invitingly.

Gunther flipped Britt's leg, rolling her onto her back.

"Now for a visit to the Schwarzwald."

He grasped both of Britt's wrists in one hand and pinned them to the bed while the other angrily squeezed and kneaded her chest. His swollen prick dove into her thick hair and into the waiting vagina inside. Her hips bucked and she grunted when he reached full penetration. He fucked her as violently as possible, evoking screams of pleasure and pain. Her legs lifted over his back and she thrust back with as much **** as was in her. Her legs arched and crossed over his back, adding the strength of her thighs to his. Gunther felt her come once, twice, and then a third time before he finally let loose.

Gunther collapsed on her, finally spent. The "****" of this Dutch slut was exactly what he'd needed. He lay there and savored the sensation.

Brit shimmied out from under him and stood up. Every part of her body ached, but she had been satisfied in a way that big Jan couldn't; he was too gentle with her. Sometimes a girl needed it rough and this Kriegsmarine prick had done his duty admirably. She strode out of the room languishing in her fulfillment.

Gunther lay on the bed breathing heavily. Britt had been gone a few minutes before he heard her shoes slapping on the stone floor again. He thought of more sex eagerly; the brief rest had been enough. When she returned she was still wearing only her footwear, but she was carrying something: a shotgun.

The look of surprise remained on Gunther's face even in ****.

Britt scuffed her clothes on the floor and knelt down with her face on the bed. When she heard the sound of Jan's boat being moored to the dock she began to sob. After all, she had been **** to shoot the German bastard who'd **** her.