German Hospitality ((closed))

December 24 1943, 21:00, Majdnek Concentration camp Lublin, Poland

The night was freezing, over a foot of snow on the frozen ground as the covered truck rumbled up in front of the administration building of the camp. From the bath climbed two young soldiers, bundled up against the cold, and they pulled with them a flailing wildcat of a girl. They pulled her from the back of the truck, dragged her barefooted and kicking and screaming all the way to the front of the building.

She cried out, putting up a struggle. She always did, and the bruises on her arms from their rough hands were a testament to how much trouble she gave them. The sounds of the struggle could be heard from down the hall. Curses shouted by a female and short, grunted words of the same degree came from more than one male voice.

"Let me go you bastards!" came the woman's voice again. She was obviously quite fluent in German, though her speech was tainted with something between Romani and Irish. Not at all an unpleasant sound.

"Hold her still, damn it!"
"Christ she's a feisty one!"

But despite all her struggling, they eventually drug her through a set of large wooden doors. She was standing there, feet apart slightly in a determined stance, and long flame colored silken tresses tumbled from her head, reaching to her waist, probably further if her hair were wet.

Much of her hair fell into her face, hiding it from view, but it was quite obvious as she stood there that she was at least attractive. Her body was petite, curvaceous, and more than simply alluring. It seemed almost made to please a man.

She didn't look at the man behind the desk. She knew that's what they wanted. And after being told to several times, the Lieutenant grabbed her hair, pulling her head back quickly. The motion threw the hair out of her face and exposed her face.

Ivory skin, though slightly dirty from the camps and the cells she'd been dragged to and from, seemed glow slightly in the soft lighting of the room. Long sable lashes rested against the ivory of her skin, making a striking contrast. Full, soft lips were perched delicately on a face befitting an angel. Her neck was a graceful pillar, even at a slightly awkward angel.

And then her eyes opened. One green, the color of the emerald shores off her mother's homeland. And one cerulean blue, the color of the sea just off the shores of her father's place of birth.

She couldn't be older than 19, from the looks of her. But age didn't matter in a place like this. Here, it was all about breeding. And her German father and gypsy mother were not the kind of breeding they wanted.

Mikael Von Roeder

“Yes, Sir. Our latest experiments have been making great advances.” Mikael Von Roeder muttered into the phone in German, the bouncing round sounds spilling easily from his lips. “Of course... Thank you for your continued patience... Yes, Sir. I’ll bee in touch very soon. Hail Hitler.”

With that, the General hung up the phone and let go of a long frustrated sigh that had been building inside him for the duration of his previous conversation. They were losing faith in the work he was doing, so many casualties with so little to show for it, their patience was running thin as well as their finances. Mikael tugged at the seams of his immaculate uniform obsessively, then straightened the medals and pins on the chest of his heavy black coat.

Mikael’s work on his uniform was quickly interrupted by an agonizing commotion filtering in from outside. It sounded like wild beasts or worse yet... gypsies. In a frenzy of frustration and rage, he fished through his desk for his schedule. Much to his dismay, his worst fears were correct. A gypsy.

The gypsy swine’s accent wasn’t terrible, but it was there. Her grasp of German was likely what had allowed her to live this long. As the girl was dragged into Mikael’s office, he stood up abruptly, slamming his pen down on his desk.

“What the hell is this?” Mikael demanded, staring at the filthy, wet feet being drug over the wood floor. “Why would you bring that filth in here?”

Lieutenant Prost looked at the guard, they thought that ought to have been obvious. One look at the crimson haired beauty ought to have told plainly the sort of work she was suited for. Perhaps the problem was that he hadn’t yet seen her face. Prost yanked her head back by the hair with one leather gloved hand. The gypsy yelped as though she’d been stabbed.

Mikael made his way quickly around his desk to examine the girl. Her blue eye was what caught his attention first. It reminded him briefly of his beloved sister.

After examining her face for a few long moments, Mikael pronounced his judgment.

“Filth.” The General seethed, spitting a dense cloud of spit droplets on onto the girl’s smudged, dirty face. “Go get her deloused, but don’t shave above her neck. This gypsy has potential as long as it doesn’t die too soon. Put it out in the small cage outside after you hose the delousing powder off it. Let’s see how much fight it has when it’s blue and shivering.”

The General’s black leather glove, lined inside with rabbit fur smeared the saliva and dirt around the girl’s face. Yes she would do nicely for the new experiment. Perhaps the camp wouldn’t be shut down after all.

The man behind the desk walked around it quickly and examined her, before spitting into her face as he declared her filth. For some reason she couldn't quite explain, that verdict was enough to make her blood boil. Suddenly squirming harder than before, she was kicking and flailing even as his hand smeared the spittle and dirt over her face. It did nothing to help clean her skin. Instead, it simply moved the smudges around, so that they'd be across different sections of her milk white skin.

"Pig!" she screamed, even as she was dragged away from him. At the last moment before they were able to turn her away, she spat at him much as he had with her, only her spray was more concentrated. It landed on his shirt, missing his face due to the distance away she was from him.

They dragged her back through the building and out into the cold again, to another building all together. This one was just as foreboding as the last, but it was built differently. It was single story, made of heavy gray brick rather than red, and had very few windows.

"Come on then girly, time for a trip to the showers," the guard beside her grunted. Her struggling continued in earnest as she tried to think of a way to get free of them... to get away. She'd heard of the showers... the way people went in but never came out. Though she didn't know it... this wasn't to be one of those showers.

The room she was dragged into had no windows. The walls and even the ceiling were white tile, and the light that hung over head gave everything an eerie, sickly yellow glow. She was tossed into a corner, and a guard that joined them in the room pointed his rifle at her, using the fear of being shot to keep her still. She glared at him, and at one point seemed as if she was going to try to hit him, only to have him level it on her knee.

"I can't kill you... but they never said I can't make sure you never walk again. Want to find out what a bullet can do to a knee, gypsy bitch?" he growled. He was young... young and mean. With a shudder, Nadya pushed herself further back into the corner even as the other guard who'd helped drag her in returned from wherever he'd gone with a large bucket of white powder. "Stand up," the armed man said, and despite wanting to do anything but, she did as she was told.

A moment later and the guard was circling her, dousing her in the white stuff. It smelled awful, and it made the air thick. She coughed, having a hard time breathing at first. Both guards stepped back, and before Nadya was able to register what was going on through the dense white cloud that had formed around her, she was hit full force with ice cold water.

As if the cold of the water wouldn't have been painful enough, something about it mixing with the powder made the entire experience excruciating. She felt as if her body were on fire, as if the powder were eating away at her skin when mixed with the water. A scream was ripped from her lips, even as the guard circled her, the large hose still hitting her full force.

By the time the water was turned off, she was on her knees and trembling from head to toe, shivering and whimpering in pain. Her once ivory skin was now pink with irritation and her teeth were chattering from cold. Is this what the showers that had killed so many felt like? This blinding, mind numbing pain?

Cold Heart

Prost watched from the door as the guards hosed and deloused the new gypsy test subject. As they tossed her clothes aside, the Lieutenant picked them up. They were bound for the fire barrels, but Prost wanted to avoid burning them in any of the furnaces in case there was something in her filth that would be poisonous to breathe.

The girl screamed and began to shiver once she was free of the pesticide powder. Prost’s cue to step in came as the guards stepped away from the shivering nude girl. The harsh pesticide powder had bleached stark white streaks in her long red hair, Prost was slightly glad that he wouldn’t have to shave that lovely head clean like he did with most of the new test subjects. Her hair was long enough to provide decent insulation from the cold. At least it would when it was dry.

“Hold it still, I’m going to clean up below the waist.” Lt. Prost ordered of the men, flipping open his immaculate steel straight razor. “Make sure it doesn’t wiggle around too much, it won’t have long to heal up down there.”

Two men took hold of her arms and legs, spreading her apart and pulling her limbs taught by leaning back until Nadya had no room or opportunity to struggle or even shiver. Prost grimaced as his knee settled in a puddle and the cold water cut through to his skin. He’d have to change into another pair of uniform pants before going out to watch, it was a pain to think that he would have to suffer the sub freezing temperatures outside with a wet spot in his slacks.

A gloved hand spread thick foam over Nadya’s pussy, the guard even took the liberty of slipping his middle digit inside the prone captive before he stepped aside to allow Prost to his duty. The Lieutenant lay the cold blade flush with her pale stomach to begin with, then slowly dragging the blade over her damp skin until it reached a thirty degree angle and slid easily through the blanket of slick foam and fragile, thin hairs. The white carpet of foam, flecked with crimson hairs slid away easily from the girl’s skin, as though Prost were peeling an orange.

When the removed lather and hair piled up on the blade it eventually overlapped the razor and touched Prost’s glove. The hardened Lieutenant flinched when this happened, pulling the blade away and swinging it through thin air, flinging the lather and hair off as though it were a spider that bit him.

“Filth...” Prost muttered as he moved the razor back to Nadya’s skin, moving down again revealing the flawless skin that told him that his flinch hadn’t caused him to cut the Gypsy’s sensitive sex organs.

The girl whimpered faintly as Prost went over her more... complicated areas, but she made no attempts to fight while the Lieutenant finished his work. Perhaps the filth wasn’t as stupid as she looked. Once he’d finished Prost stood back up, nodding for the guard holding the hose to step back in.

The frigid water came out in a violent blast, stabbing her inside and out with the freezing torrent as they washed the lather and removed hair off. At last she was clean, and a simple nod of Prost’s head sent the guards out into the freezing elements, still carrying the soaking wet girl like a bag of soil.

General Von Roeder was already waiting outside, warming his hands over a flaming metal barrel that sat in the middle of the frigid complex. The wind was whipping the freshly falling snow in harsh diagonals, sharp shards of hard ice that could cut exposed skin. Mikael’s cold blue eyes watched the gypsy carried out, her newly shaved sex held out between the two guards as though the rest of her body was just a receptical for carrying that smooth, bare prize.

The girl’s skin was already changing colors as they shoved her into the three foot by three foot, square cage made of chain link. When the guards slammed the door behind her, the thick pieces of ice and snow that had built up between the links of the cage. The door was padlocked shut and the guards made a move to return to the furnace warmed indoors.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Mikael demanded of the men, tugging on the collar of his alpaca skin coat that covered his uniform. “She’ll die if she falls asleep. Go get the dogs to keep her awake.”

The guards nodded reluctantly, moving to the kennel to retrieve the two Dobberman bulls who lived on sight. The dogs were useful in case of an escape attempt, and played a role in interrogations and torture as well.

Mikael moved away from the fire reluctantly, braving the whipping daggers of wind as he made his way to the frozen cage. He leaned forward on the cage, peering in at the girl.

“I had to burn my coat you gypsy cunt. Do you still feel like spitting at me?” Mikael taunted from inside his fur lined coat. “I’ll tell you what, when you’re ready to beg me to bless you with my precious Aryan sperm, I’ll let you go back inside to get warm. I can assure you that my cum is much warmer than anything you’re likely to experience out here.”

With that Mikael let a long, thick glob of spit fall free of his lips, whizzing through the fencing on the top of the cage to land on Nadya’s back, melting away the thin layer of ice that had already frozen on her skin. The spit would freeze soon as well, but he wanted her to feel its warmth. The warm fluid likely felt like liquid fire on her bare, freezing skin. Contrast so sharp the body could only register it as pain. He wanted her to imagine the warmth of his sperm as well, wanted her to long for it.

He waited for her to beg for it...

“You won’t survive long out here, you’d better let go of that pride if you want to live.” Mikael smirked, moving back to the fire as the barking dogs were brought forward on short metal leashes. “Get them right up next to the cage, but don’t let them off leash.”

The guards did as they were instructed, guiding the barking snarling dogs over to the small cage and letting them go wild barking snarling and howling at the shivering girl, naked flesh painted blue and her red hair streaked with white hairs and even whiter chunks of ice.

Dragged out into the freezing cold, Nadya couldn't fight the guards if she'd tried. Her body was stiff from the mixture of pain and the cold water... now combined with the cold wind. It bit at her like teeth, ripping at her skin and making her feel like it would be pulled off of her in chunks. With each gust of wind, she felt like dozens of sharp knives were being stabbed into her... and they were on fire.

A scream left her as the first one hit her bare sex, making her feel like scalding hot blades had been driven into her. The cold was so bitter it felt as if it were burning her wet body. The water froze to her skin almost as soon as she was carried outside, and crystallized in her hair. Her once ivory skin quickly turned pink, then bitter red as the winds whipped around her, freezing her and sinking into her very core. Tears were in her eyes, but as soon as they slid down onto her cheeks, they formed new small ice crystals, sticking to her skin.

Inside the cage, she wanted to scream as she was set down on the forgiving ground, snow and ice plastering itself to her already frigid form, but the sound simply wouldn't come... nor would the breath to make it happen. She could hardly inhale, and even the breaths she managed were shuddering gasps, accentuated by the shaking of her body. Hypothermia was on the horizon, she knew, and as they slammed the cage shut, the rattle of the metal around her was like a final accent to drive home that she could.. and probably would... die. Sharp pieces of ice fell from the cage above her and she managed to get out a whimper as she continued to take in laborious breaths.

The man from the office walked over, looking all too smug with himself. Deep down, she wanted to scream at him... to hit him.. to hurt him the way she was hurting. But she couldn't even move enough to get to the edge of the cage. Instead, all she could do was stare up at him through those mismatched eyes, her now dual-colored hair hanging in her face and around her body, sticking to it. One hard touch and she was sure it would break... as fragile as thin, hand blown glass.

The spit to her back burned, but the pain it caused was a momentarily welcome thing. Welcome because it assured her she could, in fact, still feel. The numbness that was setting in was frightening, and made breathing even more frightening as she huddled in on herself. Parts of her skin were purple and blue with the cold, her lips slowly turning purple themselves, heading steadily for blue.

When he walked away and left her to tremble and flinch at every bark and snap of teeth from the dogs, Nadya found herself fighting to keep her eyes open, only kept awake by the noise the dogs were making.

It would be over an hour before the girl would force a stiff arm to lift, cry as she shifted inside the cage, crawling to the edge closest to where the barrel he stood watching her at was. Sobs left her as she crawled over the unforgiving ground, ice biting into and cutting her tender skin, causing little trickles of warm blood to seep from her wounds and mingle with the snow and ice cleaning to her legs.

"P-please..." she managed to gasp out. It wasn't loud, but it was all she could manage, her hands gripping at the chain link, fingers wrapping around the ice-covered metal, trying to get his attention over the barking and snarling of the dogs. "Please..." a cough, followed by several more wracking hacks, and then the world began to spin around her, going gray and fuzzy at the edges. The pain was the worst pain she'd ever known, her breaths the most shallow she'd ever drawn... and now, when she knew she could take it no more... would beg, plead, do whatever he asked just to get warm and make those things stop...

She felt as if she were going to die. The world was slipping away as her vision began to become more and more blurry around the edges and she had to lean against the cage's interior to stay upright, clinging to it desperately.

Seventy-Three

"Get her inside and put up the dogs. After you're done you can help yourselves to the female prisoners." Mikael muttered, turning up the collar on his coat. "Make sure she doesn't die before you get her inside."

The gruff General ordered of his subordinates, making his way back into the main building of the small prison complex. As far as begging went, this new girl was a novice, but she had broken down and begged for her life. This was a good sign for her survival instincts.

Mikael looked through his ledger of current Test Subjects that they housed on sight. This girl would be the sixteenth surviving woman, the thirty-fifth overall. Many had died in the experiments that were conducted on the premises, and the red-haired gypsy was the seventy-third prisoner to cross through the frozen steel gates. Number seventy-three.

Fishing around in his desk, Mikael located a few metal blocks, each embossed with raised, flat numbers. A zero, a seven and lastly a three; he laid them out carefully, number side down on the metal surface of the furnace to heat up. Once he felt certain that they would stay put until he had need of them, Mikael made his way back to the rotating leather armchair behind his desk, just in time to watch the nude, shivering girl be brought into the warm office.

Though the ambient air was a comfortable sixty-eight degrees, it most likely felt to the girl like being dragged into an oven, given how cold she was in the outside air. The guards deposited her on the wood floor unceremoniously before being dismissed by a casual wave of Mikael’s hand to go have their fun with the other hapless captives.

Mikael rose from his seat in silence, grasping a small basin of water and bringing it over to the girl who would henceforth be known as Seventy-Three.

“Hands.” Mikael ordered of the frail, shivering girl. “Hands!”

When she slowly extended her shaking, pale hands, Mikael took hold of them and dunked them into the basin. The water was far from hot, barely even warm, but the expression on her face told him that the heat was excruciating in her frostbitten and nearly ruined fingers. Still, it was necessary to prevent her from losing the fingers.

As Mikael set down the basin and left her to soak her fingers, he retrieved a woolen blanket from the nearby shelves, wrapping the soft, warm fabric around her ice cold frame. He wrapped her tightly in the blanket, binding her hair up lastly under a tight fold of the blanket.

“I’ll give you some time to get warm.” Mikael said, his voice almost gentle as he stood up to his full height. “You survived a full hour, that’s very impressive Seventy-Three. Your begging leaves much to be desired, but you’ll learn to beg properly soon enough. For now, you will thank me for saving your life. Thank my by polishing my boots.”

With the last command, Mikael stomped his polished black boot down onto the hollow wooden floor. He nudged the basin of water away from her now red hands with his boot, letting the polished black surface reflect her face.

“With your tongue.”

Nadya was lifted half conscious from the cage, and though her eyes rolled backward in her head, showing just how far gone she was, her frozen body was still stiff, making carrying her awkward despite her slight frame. She was silent as they carried her in, and dropped her bodily to the floor.

She was silent until the air hit her and as it did, a loud gasp left her. When she hit the floor with a thud, she let out a choked cry and huddled there, curled in on herself and shivering violently. Already her hair was beginning to thaw, and the cold water that dripped from it and down her naked, ice-covered skin felt like it was burning a trail along her, as if he'd just dumped hot wax onto her.

Blinking, she forced her vision to clear and looked up at him just in time to see him drawing near. Her eyes didn't register the bowl he carried, only his nearness and she whimpered, trying to back away, only to gasp and let out a hiss of pain as she tried to move her tense muscles. Tears slid down her cheeks, the warm salt water burning her still frozen flesh as it slid down her pale skin.

When he put the bowl down and commanded she put her hands in the water, she did as she was told, letting out a sound that was half sob, half strangled cry as the tepid water soaked into her skin, melting away what was left of the ice. Her teeth chattered harder and she sat there trembling, forcing herself to leave her hands in the water despite the pain. The pain was good... it meant she could still feel... her nerve endings weren't dead... her fingers may not fall off after all.

He wrapped her in a blanket then, and she flinched visibly at his touch, looking up at him with eyes that were somewhere between wary and terrified, still spirited but terribly afraid at the same time. There was nothing dead in them, he hadn't managed to completely break her spirit yet, if her eyes were any hint.

Barely able to pull her hands away from the water before he nudged the bowl out of the way and stomped his foot down, telling her she could "thank" him by polishing the shiny surface with her tongue, Nadya looked down at her frightened reflection in the polished surface before looking up at him. Hadn't he complained he'd had to burn his coat after she spit on it? Why then was he telling her to put her saliva on his boot?

Confusion reigning in her mind, the girl lowered her head slowly, supporting her weight on her hands with a loud whimper before she touched the tip of her tongue to his shoe. Her eyes were shut tightly as she did it, and it would take several quick touches of her tongue before she'd be brave enough to drag the thick pink muscle across the surface quickly, coughing and gagging at the taste and the thought of what she was doing.

Mikael grinned as he watched the gypsy filth licking his polished boots, her little pink tongue swiping over the reflective black surface in between her sobs and coughs of repulsion. He tugged on the knot of his black tie, loosening it slowly as he watched her. The gypsy had been suitably deloused and purified by the cold, whatever filth and bacteria she had carried in would have died quickly in the frigid temperatures. The shocks of chemical bleached hair making her look even more appealing to General Von Roeder. He would enjoy this one's torment especially.

"Enough!" The General commanded, snatching his boot back from her mouth. "Stand up, if your legs will let you."

While the gypsy struggled with her frozen muscles and joints, grunting and whimpering like a wounded beast, Mikael made his way to the furnace, retrieving the metal block numbers with a thick piece of leather to prevent the hot metal from burning his own skin. When he returned, seventy-three had made very little progress.

Ever impatient, the general seized her wet hair and dragged her up, tossing her over his desk roughly, the blanket falling from her body as she tumbled down onto its surface. Before she could even try to lift her wet, naked body up from the desk, Mikael's gloved hand was pushing her face into the polished wood surface, clearing her hair away from the back of her neck, using his groin to pin her hips against the corner of the desk as he lowered the cluster of branding numbers.

"From now on, you shall be known only as Seventy-Three. Your gypsy, mongrel name is dead. You shall willingly participate in all experiments and projects conducted within this camp without resistance or complaint. Any attempts to go against the wishes of your Masters shall result in agonizing punishments." As Mikael said the word 'punishment', he pressed the hot metal numbers against the right nape of the gypsy girl's neck. He had to speak louder to be heard over her screams, and the hissing sound of bubbling flesh. "Your new name has been branded into you, it is as much a part of you as your very soul. You are a test-subject and nothing more, if you hope to live you shall aspire to be a good test subject."

When the branding plates lifted, they left behind a wide oval of red, seared flesh, surrounding three distinctive, white, raised blisters that designated her as "073". The numbers were burned into her skin and would remain, even after life had escaped the confines of her body. Mikael stepped back, letting the gypsy flail and moan while he wrapped the blocks in the leather rag to cool.

When seventy-three seemed to be winding down her fit, Mikael unbuckled his belt. The sound alone seemed to make her freeze in place, the agonizing pain in her skin forgotten.

"The time has come for you to demonstrate your worth as a test subject."

Nadya cringed away when he pulled his foot back, half expecting to be kicked. Her shoulders hunched and she bowed her head, trying to cover herself the best she can, her arm curling up over her head. Instead of kicking her though, the man just walked away, telling her to rise.

Her muscles and joints screamed in agony, and pained sounds escaped her lips as she struggled to get up. She was exhausted, and the cold had sapped the last of her strength. Each time she'd get up, she'd collapse again, tears sliding down her cheeks. The thought of being put back in that cage was the only thing pushing her to continue trying, but the attempts were suddenly cut short.

A hand grabbed her by the hair and lifted her to her feet before throwing her face-first toward the desk. She landed hard on the wooden surface, her breath forced from her as she hit it, hard. Her hands braced on it, trying to push herself up with weak and shaking arms, only to have his hand find her head and push her back down, hard.

A grunt left Nadya as she listened to what he was saying, telling her that she had a new name. The metal numbers were there on her neck suddenly, pressing hard and sending hot shocks through her. Screams left her and she struggled, unable to stop her body from trying to get away from what he was doing. Sobs left her and then shortly after, he let her go, stepping back as she continued to try to rise.

The sound of the zipper sliding down was enough to make her go stiff, eyes wide. He told her it was time to prove what a good test subject she could be, and Nadya shuddered at the thought. Turning her head, she looked back at him through frightened eyes, taking in his face.

His unforgiving, unemotional face. A soft whimper left her, the sound little more than a whisper as she looked at him and he looked back. "Please... no..." she managed to croak out, her voice nearly nonexistent from all the screaming she'd done.