The Order of Pain

[Belvino]

In the distance explosions rocked the atmosphere. Elsa’s gaze scanned the horizon while her ears listened for the buzz of propellers that would indicate an approaching plane. She heard nothing of the sort and her breath rushed out of her lips. She had not been aware that she was holding it. The war was creeping ever near her country home, despite the great lengths she had gone to find a place so far from everything.

Her hands tightened on the rake before her as an image filled her vision. Metal, burning and hot seared her nose much like that day. The wreckage had been on fire for some time though she could not know how long. It was the cries that echoed in her ears- the sound of so much pain. He was like a wounded rabbit squealing in the throes of death, desperate for the pain to cease. When she found him he was laying on his side his eyes stared into nothing and his lips parted in a cry of surprise.

No, he gasped.

Blood caked the corners of his mouth and his breath smelled like the metal of the burning plane. She knelt before him her hands fluttering upon his chest, feeling everywhere. He grabbed her wrist but his grip was weak, and his energy spent. She felt the crisp sensation of burned skin when he touched her. His palms were burned like some of his body and upon closer inspection she discovered charring around his nose. Already his breath was raspy, and ragged becoming more irregular the longer she watched.

Help me, he whispered, his eyes closing momentarily. She shook her head not understanding his request. From the tail of the plane she had gathered that he was a soldier of the American military, but her English was limited. However she knew all she needed to know from the image of this man’s suffering. For a moment she stood and rummaged in the bag strapped across her shoulder until she found the only thing that could help him in this moment.

Elsa bent towards him once more, and pressed the needle into the crook of his elbow. She depressed the plunger and watched as the man breathed a sigh of relief. His pain washed away on a wave and took with it the last remnants of his life. Elsa brushed her hand across his eyes closing them forever from the world.

Jetzt ruhen, rest now.

The memory left tears on Elsa’s cheeks and she turned away from the rake letting it stick upwards in the earth. She could hear the sounds of Marie singing away in the kitchen. The smell of fresh bread wafted through the air, but Elsa could think of nothing but that plane. It had been so long ago but the memory made it feel so new. She shook her head and strode into the house determined to direct her thoughts away.

“Guten tag, good day” Marie sang as the door closed behind Elsa. Elsa smiled in response and sat at the table just as Marie brought a bowl of fresh stew and slices of the bread she had smelled earlier. The two women had been together for some time, living and sharing space. Marie was a baker who would sell her wares in the village market and therefore was home more often than Elsa who took medical cases when she was not working in the hospital. Their arrangement was useful for both women who had never married, but sought the companionship and safety of company.

The two women settled into their meal, talking quietly amongst themselves. They were interrupted by a scratching at the door, and both looked up startled. The door creaked open and standing at the entry was a man covered in blood. He swayed on his feet before them and then his knees collapsed and he met the floor with his face. Elsa gasped and a cry of surprise echoed from Marie’s end of the table.

 

[Homerun2611]

It had all gone so fast, three months ago, roughly September 15, 1944, Christopher "Herky" Becker, was sitting in his sophomore fluid mechanics class at the University of Iowa, tapping his pencil on the table, as the clock seemed to be taking forever, as it clicked toward 2:30. It was fall, and other than being in way over his head as an academic, his mind was on football. Christopher was at heart, mind and body, a farm kid. He had been flying his Daddy's crop duster, as well as flying in the local county and state fair air shows, since he was 14. Furthermore, if it had an engine, whether it be a go cart, combine, motorcycle, lawn mower or single or twin propeller plane, Chris could take it apart, put it back together and make it run, nearly with his eyes closed.

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It was a combination of those skills that had led his high school advisor to steering him toward engineering at the University of Iowa, where he had received a football scholarship, what they had not explained fully was all the dang math! If he was built like a young Clark Kent, calculus and trigonometry were his kryptonite. Increasingly he was asking himself why he was here, the War was accelerating, with the US landing along with the Allied troops on Normandy, three months earlier, casualties were high, and even kids like Chris, the only son of a midwest farmers were now being pulled in, as the Allies would need every able bodied man, and Chris' blood dripped red, white and blue!

Chris had long considered enlisting, just like everyone else but had been discouraged, saying he could be more value later in the war coupled with some education, and his family needed him to farm the lands so key to America's food supply.

Chris thought he was on the threshold of finally earning a starting defensive back role on the Hawkeye football team, but all that seemed a bit silly when compared to the war. In fifteen minutes he would be sprinting across campus to be the first player at weight lifting, he would never make it.

Colonel Stephen Montgomery, walked into the classroom and a hush took over the mini amphitheater setting. He spoke silently to the professor and then receiving approval, turned to the wide eyed students. "We are looking for Christopher Becker..." And he felt all eyes turn toward him, as adrenaline coursed through his veins. He gathered his books and met them in the hallway. "Son, we understand you can fly anything and fix about anything too..."

Chris could only nod. "Son, we are short of flyers and mechanics, we are recruiting the best from all over and offering unprecedented opportunities to young men like yourself. From what we have been told, it appears you are both pilot and mechanic?" He went on to explain, the Chris and others, would serve three months basic training at West Point, Officer's Candidate School..." The man had a look that made Chris think he should be impressed. "Son, you normally need a degree to be an officer, but these aren't normal times, and men with critical skills are needed."

It was a time in our nation's history that, that was all that need be said, particularly a farmed raised kid from Bettendorf Iowa. Chris was all in. And there it was, he called home, and he could hear the pride in both is father's and grandfather's voices. His father had fought in the great war, and his grandfather's father had migrated from Germany, along with his parents who died on the boat coming over, in the 1850's during the European famines. It was his grandfather who said "Win back our country from those Nazi bastards!"

Chris' surname Becker, meant baker, in the old country, Germany, and there were still some words spoken in German in his home. The ironic thing was, if he had been there, Chris' looks would have make him a poster boy of the Hitler youth! Saying no was never a consideration, and three days ago, fresh form basic training, and accelerated classes at West Point, Chris had landed in England and stationed at the Royal airfields in Northern England.

He had only been there three days, when his first opportunity came. It was a single plane mission, and he had only flown a bit over 15 hours in the B-17 in training, but he had also been a cameraman on his high school paper, so he was the perfect candidate to act as co pilot on the mission. It was simple reconnaissance, but trying to understand Axis troops and munitions in Western Germany, specifically any key industrial installations in the areas in and surrounding Bonn.

The pilot was Charlie Hoffman, one of the most experienced pilots of the Armed Air Forces. All that was expected of Chris was to monitor the gages, and possibly take a few pictures. Should they engage some conflict which was not anticipated, Charlie would assume the gunnery position and Chris might have to fly until they were out of danger. The early flight had been uneventful, they had just the perfect amount of cloud cover and flew at high altitude, deciding to go as far east as Hanover, before circling back. The had noticed some newer buildings, a big north of Cologne and hand dropped down to 3,000 feet to get a closer look.

They never saw it until it hit them, surface to air artillery, pelted the underside and side of the plane. The bullets came in rapid fire, and the first barraged pierced the plane on Charlie's side, hitting him in the throat. Chris didn't have to check, as Charlie's body went limp, blood shooting from his primary artery.

Quickly Chris went into pilot mode, not panicking, but also realizing their fuel tanks had been hit, and he had already lost two of the four engines. The plane was going to go down fast, and while he was entirely focused, on finding a spot to try to bring her down, a second barrage hit, with Chris taking two shots in his right arm, and shoulder, and another to his midsection.

Smoke was billowing from the decommissioned engines, but he was able to pull the plane from the nosedive, and fly the plane using only the hydrualics. The only possible landing spot was a reasonably large wheat field where he somehow completed a very bumpy landing. He had no idea how long he had before the plane exploded, so he released the hatch and somehow stumbled out, grabbing his backpack which contained a cantine, three hersey bars, two pairs of silk nylons and a carton of Lucky Strikes. They were the negotiation tools of capture,

He was bleeding profusely and the only haven in sight was a medium farmhouse, less than three hundred yards away. it took every last bit of strength and resolve to get to the door, and while he had no idea what may be inside, the alternative was near certain death. He tried to pound, but it barel came across as more than a scratch, yet somehow they heard him. He was dizzy and near collapse as the door open, and he only had one moment of recognition before he collapsed, but whoever opened the door was.... beautiful!

If that was his last sight, then it could have been worse, he never even had a chance to utter a word before consciousness slipped away and he fell inside the doorway fae first!

 

[Belvino]

“Dear god!”

Elsa glanced back at the exclamation in time to see her friend cross herself and begin muttering a prayer under her breath. Ordinarily Marie was not a women compelled to religion, but this moment seemed to take something out of her.

Elsa moved towards the man her blonde braid falling over her shoulder and just grazing his cheek as she rolled him over and simultaneously opened his eyes. His pupils constricted in the flash of the light, but he did not wake. A moan escaped his mouth and she noted blood coming from his abdomen. The hand that had gripped his shoulder came away with blood, fresh and hot.

“Help me, Marie,” she said.

Elsa slipped her hand beneath his arms and began pulling him backwards into the home. The effort was tremendous and all for naught for he barely moved a few centimeters. Elsa looked again to her friend who was now standing with her mouth slightly agape and shaking her head.

“A.. Ahh..American,” Marie muttered,”He’s an American!”

“Marie! If we do not help this man he will be a dead American. We cannot leave him here.”

“We will be dead,” Marie exclaimed looking offendedly at Elsa.

Elsa huffed and grabbed her friends arm, momentarily letting go of the man at her feet. “Do you not think we will be dead anyway?” She gestured down to the man waving dramatically at the green uniform, or what was left of it.

“We were dead the moment he knocked on this door,” she sighed and reached down for the man again, “Now, please help me, and perhaps we will all have a chance.”

Marie bent next to her friend and reached underneath his arm as she had done. Together they moved the man across the floor. He groaned audibly as his feet dragged on the ground and Elsa glanced down at him, “Let’s take him to the cellar.”

“Hurry, we must be quick,” she said. Marie paused a moment and jerked open the door of the cellar hidden in the floor of the small kitchen. A rush of earthy, damp smell erupted from the ground. Elsa grimaced and the two friends continued carrying their burden down the stairs. They had to awkwardly side step down the narrow steps, each step causing the man to moan painfully.

The women stopped finally, laying him back against the wall behind bags of potatoes, and baskets of root vegetables. Elsa looked towards Marie, and held her hands tightly.

“Get me some clean rags and do it quickly, he is bleeding and we do not have much time before they come looking.”

Marie left and quickly returned with a bundle from upstairs. Elsa took the bundle and created several small knots of rags to which she pressed the bundles into the areas he had been shot. She tied it off tightly around his shoulder and arm. The abdomen was more difficult and she had to rip the hem of her trousers in a strip to get the length of fabric needed to wrap around his waist. This was the bleeding she could see but there was no real time to do further inspection. The German troops would have noticed where this man’s plane had crashed and they would come looking.

His eyes were beginning to flutter open enough that he was looking around and taking note of the two women before him. Elsa held a finger to her lips and made a shushing noise. She turned away from him then and took several cloth sacks from the shelves and draped them over his form, pushing his legs up closer to him so they did not stick out.

“He looks like potatoes,” Marie giggled a bit and Elsa smiled at her friends humor but felt her head shaking all the same.

There was a rumble from upstairs and a sound like the sputtering of an engine. The women gasped staring at one another in horror. They both ran up the steps together taking two at a time.

“Marie! The floor!” Elsa whispered hastily when she noticed the streaks of blood in the entry from the American.

“Your hands!” Marie exclaimed her own attention focused on her friend. Elsa’s palms were covered in blood. Elsa rushed to the sink and hastily began scrubbing her hands together under the cold water. In the corner of her eye she could see Marie had yanked the rug over the spot on the floor and was now sitting at the table again attempting to appear as if her stew was immensely satisfying.

Outside they could hear the stutter of the engine come to a halt, and the sound of feet crunching on gravel as the occupants of the vehicle stepped out onto the yard. The slamming of the car doors caused Elsa to jump with fright and she gripped the edge of the sink taking long breaths in.

 

[Homerun2611]

Initially all of Chris' focus had been simply on landing the plane, fatally wounded as it was, just as his pilot had been. However, as soon as he somehow got the plane down, the focus turned on what do to to now. The attack had come from the ground, which meant eyes were on them, and it would not be long until the crash was investigated. It had taken all Chris had to get himself out of the plane, trying to free the dead pilot was impossible. He knew the orders, he had been well trained. "If your plane is beyond repair, destroy it, do not leave for the enemy. The same with your fellow soldiers!"

Charlie was dead, and the idea of those lousy krauts handing or worse, debasing his body was unthinkable. Also, with one dead pilot clearly burned in the wreckage, there was not necessarily a second, or so he hoped they might think. By the time Chris was out of the plane, he was beginning to think he wouldn't make it either. He was obviously shot worse than he realized, but somehow he was able to light a match and toss it to the fuel flowing out. The explosion knocked him to the ground and he barely managed to get back up. By the time he got to the house, he wasn't sure what he might find, it could even be occupied by German soldiers?

He felt a sense of relief, seeing the beautiful blonde, and her friend sitting at the table. However, he was done, collapsing right there and leaving his fate in their hands. He did not remember being taken to the cellar, and when awoke alone later, now running a fever, and still a bit hallucinating, he figured he must have been captured, and put in a cell to die. He never heard any of the conversation upstairs.

The Germans had been thrilled at their clear wounding of the American plane, and they knew the general direction of where it had to have landed, but the resultant explosion removed all doubt. It was three cars that pulled up to the farm house. A German Leiutentant and Colonel in one vehicle, two privates and a sargeant in another jeep, in case their was manual work to be done. The last car, a black Traction Avant, driven by the young Gestapo Agent and his Major.

They were hoping to find the pilots alive, question them as the Gestapo could use techniques above the law. However as they came about the wreckage their hopes were considerably dimmed. It was a coldish night and dust had covered any drops of blood that Chris might have tracked as he treaded to the farmhouse. However, it being the only refuge in sight, they came visiting.

As one of the women, opened the door, they not so much entered as invaded, pushing the woman out of the way, and looking about. To be honest, they were surprised, and the two young beauties a pleasant surprise at that, even if they were dressed for work and chores rather than dancing and parties. The Gestapo Major walked up to the pretty blonde, and using his hand, where he took off his black leather glove, he used its back to stroke the woman's cheek.

"Ihr beiden Frauen lebt hier allein?" He asked if the two women lived here alone?

"Nicht verheiratet, hier leben keine Männer mit dir?" Not married, no men live here?

"Haben Sie das Flugzeug gehört, hat sich jemand das Wrack angesehen, die Piloten, gab es Überlebende?" Had they heard the plane, had anyone gone to see the wreckage, the pilots, were there survivors?​

The man doing the questioning was in his 40's, slender, tall, with angular features and beedy eyes. He did not really think there was anything here, unfortunately they had done too good of a job shooting down the plane. However, this was an unexpected delight, two women, alone, the war had been cold and a man took pleasure where he saw opportunity, and this certainly seemed like opportunity.

They talked a bit more, but it was clear his mind had moved from business to pleasure, and the German soldiers were having similar thoughts.

The walked around, leaning down, running their hands over Maria's curves as well.

"Ihr zwei, Freunde, gute Freunde?" You two, friends, good friends?​

He was implying much more than friendship, and if they had a few more moments he would have demanded a little demonstration from the two ladies. He had made his conclusion, and the others wouldn't question it, but they must report back.

"Hier ist nichts, aber du würdest es mir sagen, wenn es da wäre, oder?" There is nothing here, but you would tell me if it were, no?​

And then he said something that should have made the ladies skin crawl...

"Ich werde bald wiederkommen, vielleicht andere, wir bringen etwas Wein mit, lernen uns besser kennen!" I will plan to be back soon, perhaps others, we will bring some wine, get to know each other better!​

He leaned in and pressed his lips to Elsa's, while gripping her tightly at the waist. They both had to know she dare not resist. He loved his job, loved the power, before the Nazi's he had been a simple mathematics instructor at the University of Berlin, all those coeds who didn't pay him the time of day, now, he had power!

 

[Belvino]

Marie had barely a moment to register that her own hands were smudged with blood from Elsa’s palms and she began furtively rubbing them on the inside of her trousers. Her attempt succeeded only in turning her skin a vibrant shade of red. There was no knock at the door as Elsa had just opened it when it was shoved wide. She was pushed almost violently off to the side as the German soldiers entered.

They appraised the women and seemed to find them satisfactory if the smirks and quick glances were any indication. Elsa gritted her teeth and prepared for the worst as this could go many ways.

Ihr beiden Frauen lebt hier allein?" He asked if the two women lived here alone?

“Jawohl,” Yes she responded her eyes darting to Marie briefly before settling back on the soldier.

Elsa nodded her head slowly keeping her answers to a minimum. She knew the man before her was gestapo just as she knew the others were mostly officers. Whoever they had shot down seemed important enough they had sent so many high ranking individuals to find them. It was his next question that brought her a momentary pause. She felt her pulse racing and she glanced at Marie quickly noticing that two others had encircled her and were standing uncomfortably close.

“Sir, wir haben nur die üblichen Geräusche vom Schlachtfeld gehört,” Sir we only heard the usual noises from the battlefield.

“Wir wussten nicht, dass es einen Flugzeugabsturz gab” We did not know there was a plane crash

They seemed to lose interest then in the immediate questioning and became briefly preoccupied with their surroundings, which much to the women’s dismay included themselves. Marie felt the hands of the soldiers touching her their fingertips grazing across her hips. She looked at them and flashed a brief smile but her spine was stiff, and her body seemed to be leaning away from them.

The gestapo agent once more focused on Elsa whose attention had been momentarily drawn to the other soldiers. She answered his last few questions mechanically, but it was when he said they would be back that her eyes opened wide. Her mouth parted and she was just about to protest when the Gestapo leaned forward pressing the whole length of his body on her as his lips met hers. Initially Elsa did nothing for she was too shocked to register immediately what had happened. Her hands rose of their own accord and she pressed back on the man’s chest.

“Bitte herr…” Please mister. She turned her head to the side trying to disengage from the kiss. She felt his mouth on her cheek and then he pulled away and the look on his face was deadly. She had angered him dearly this she knew.

“Ich kenne deinen namen nicht” I do not know your name. She could see that he was very upset with her and it seemed almost as if he was readying to strike her. She leaned forward quickly and lifted a hand to his chest, trailing her fingers down his abdomen suggestively.

“Ich möchte zuerst deinen namen wissen,” I like to know your name first.

 

[Homerun2611]

It was an interesting cadre of men that had ventured to explore the crash. The leader of the group should have been the German Colonel, Gustav Hammer, he was six foot two, forty five years old, brown hair, prematurely graying at the temples, blue eyes and a fit physique that was regal in nature. He was classically trained, a lifelong military man, married himself and a strong believer in the honor of the military, and hating his role today, but he was a soldier at heart. And while he was the highest ranking military officer, in these times of "Verrücktheit und Horror" Craziness and horror, as he had described it to his wife Helena, he knew the Gestapo Major, could turn and put a bullet through his head, and not face a moments recourse.

The young soldiers with him, in prior years could have been good men, or so he wanted to think, but somehow, this world of hate and horror had claimed their souls. The hate perpetrated by Hitler and his Third Reich had poisoned what might have been good men, bringing out the most hideous aspects of the human soul.

Gustav was biding his time, if it had only been him he would have fought and rebelled, but the impact on his wife, and his sixteeen year old daughter, also named Maria, was not something he could do. So he was waiting, and had not committed any war crimes himself, but he was aware of others that had, and he would face that one day when he met his maker.


Karl Freiderich, was the defacto leader of this group, the Gestapo was pure evil and could act above the law. They were the handpicked agents of evil of the Fuhrer himself, a pitiful and paranoid man, seemingly filled with nothing but hate, but able to build a a propaganda machine at a time when the German economy was in peril, and using hate solidified many to commit untold atrocities.

Gustav remained at the door, and breathed a sigh of relief as Karl seemed to buy what the women were saying. Thank goodness, that Karl had no training, for Gustav had seen the traces of bllod the women had not been quite able to conceal. outside. He knew while it was possible the B-17 had been flown alone, it was highly unlikely and their was only one burned skeleton in the crash. The pilot, had been a more senior officer, and there was no doubt a co-pilot/navigator somewhere, and likely hidden by the women.

However, Gustav had given the women an alibi, explaining how the "dumme Amerikaner", stupid Americans were so short on able bodied men they were forcing their few pilots to do more than they could, which was why Germany would so easily win the war. He believed, in truth, none of that, but if fit the narrative. He secretly had been communicating with friends he had in America, and if possible that would be his destination, his and his family's should he be able to defect.

He watched the circus play out, as not only the Gestapo Major but his own soldiers were far more interested in the offerings of the beautiful German women, than interrogation. They were much older, but all Gustav could think of was his wife and daughter and how he had to figure out how to get all of them out of this hell! He had grimaced, thankfully undetected, when Karl said he'd be back, and well he might, likely frankly, but he would not be in attendance, not that that made anything better. He clenched his fist, as the Major unwantingly kissed Elsa.

"Mein Name ist Karl ..." You could hear the lust and wantoness in his voice, and then his soldiers closed in on the other, being so bold as to lean down and start to kiss each side of her neck, fondling her breasts. Gustav did what he could, '"Achtung, ihr seid Soldaten!" Ordering his soldiers to stand at attention, reminding them they were soldiers. They looked shocked, for wasn't this the fruits of war!

Karl pressed in for another kiss, this time trying to push his pointy tongue inside of Elsa's mouth, and reaching down to lift her dress, and press his hand to her mound, longing for the touch of a woman's pussy. Luckily, for all, Gustav's rebuke of his solders, made Karl realize this was not the time, but he did intend to fulfull his promise of return, and the German Colonel would not be with him. Spinning on his heel, the Gestapo Major called out, "Wir gehen..." We go...but then he menacingly add, "...for now!"

As a show of his power, Karl led the others out, leaving Gustav only a moment. He closed on Elsa, "Is he alive?" Then he shook his head, it didn't matter, not for him. "You were lucky, you need to clean and hide your tracks better. If the soldier lives, perhaps he can help protect you, but he, the Gestapo...maybe all will be back and they are coming, solely to enjoy the two of you!"

If she looked she would see the almost fatherly caring of the German officer, but he was the exception and not the rule, and he was right, they had been lucky, largely because of Gustav!

 

[Belvino]

“Mein name ist Karl.”

That voice would forever haunt Elsa’s dreams. His hands groped her and reached determinedly between her legs. Even his tongue was violating her mouth, prying between her lips for access to her mouth. She resisted the urge to bite it knowing fairly well the pain and suffering she would endure as a result. She could not however stop herself from pushing at him in a last ditch effort to get him off.

Marie in her own struggles was surrounded by two of them. She pulled away from their kissed and swatted at their hands, daring so far to glare at them.

“Nein!” she yelled having had enough of all this.

Much to the women’s relief the other higher ranking officer in the room called his men to attention and Elsa glanced over at him seeing the look of disgust that he was trying unsuccessfully to hide. Equally the other men did not spare him from their deep dislike of his order, but nevertheless they snapped too and glanced warily out of their corner of their eye waiting for their next command. It was not long in coming and they all moved out some of the more bold ones taking a moment to wink at the ladies as they left.

Elsa’s breath rushed out of her lungs as soon as Karl had exited the cottage. Her eyes closed momentarily and she repressed a shudder. She opened them to find the other officer standing before her his brows etched in worry and a frown creasing his lips.

“Is he alive?” he asked in German and before Elsa could respond he spoke again. “You were lucky, you need to clean and hide your tracks better. If the soldier lives, perhaps he can help protect you, but he, the Gestapo...maybe all will be back and they are coming, solely to enjoy the two of you!”

“He lives…” Elsa trailed off, “for now.”

“Thank you, Sir. May there be more of you in this war,” She reached for his hand and gave it a quick squeeze.

The officer left their home and both women waited precariously on edge. They expected the men to march back in at any moment, but instead they heard the engines start up and then the sound of the vehicles began to fade. They were safe for the moment.

Elsa took one look at Marie and rushed to the trapdoor of the cellar saying as she went, “Grab my bag, Marie and all the extra supplies you can hold.”

She rushed headlong down the stairs knowing she did not have a lot of time. Her eyes settled on the dark of the cellar adjusting to the sudden dim interior. She stumbled forward half blind but becoming aware just as quickly of everything before her. She found the pile of potatoes and her hand reached out to remove the cloth of burlap covering the young American.

She pressed her fingers into the crook of his neck noting his eyelid flutter at the same time. She could hear Marie rushing around upstairs and knew she would be down any minute now with the requested items, but there was no more waiting. Elsa grabbed what was left of the man’s uniform and began ripping at the buttons, tearing bits of his frail shirt. Her hands moved with her eyes deftly checking for bleeding or other injuries. The bandages she had from before were holding somewhat, but they needed something better.

With a grunt she pushed him onto his side and checked his back pulling more of the shirt off him at this point. She returned him to his back and her eyes settled on his pants. He had a heavy belt on which had surprisingly held up to the force of the accident. His pants were in almost the same state as his shirt however. She moved to undo this, glancing up at him for a moment before continuing. She pulled these off swiftly once again running her hands all over his legs. She had saved the groin for last and kept the last of his modesty with what was left of his undergarment, but now she pulled this down a moment to look for injury and spotted nothing. Just as she had done so Marie returned baring her requested items with one eyebrow cocked.

“What are you doing?” She asked.

“Looking for injury,” Elsa responded and took her supplies. For a long while she worked diligently; Marie overlooking for some time before she disappeared up the stairs on her own tasks of cleaning the mess. When the American woke again he was surrounded by the glow of several candles and was laying on a hastily made bed of straw and fresh linens.

 

[Homerun2611]

Once he knew the solder had lived he knew, while the women were in more danger immediately, he at least gave them some hope of further protection. However he had seen the look not only in the Gestapo Major's eyes and tone, but even his own soldiers, and his rebuke would not dissuade them forever. "Good, keep him hidden, but get him well...and then, leave!"

Gustav looked back over his shoulder as he left, he hoped that the women took his warning seriously. He could not get his wife and daughter from his mind. This was not the Germany or the German army he had gown up loving dedicated to serving, they were now, no more than rapists and killers in fancy suits. That had been a triggering moment, and from that point forward he dedicated himself to getting his wife and family out of this cesspool, and in the meantime, doing everything he could to subvert the efforts of his countrymen.

Chris was slipping in and out of consciousness. When he awoke he knew he was in a dark space, apparently safe, but was it a cell or was he in hiding? And if he was in hiding, who had helped him. He remembered flashes of a naturally taller and beautiful blonde woman who he had briefly seen, but now, in this state, she may have been a mirage!

He had fallen back under when Elsa arrived, followed soon after by Marie. However, at this time, he had no idea of their names or even that it was two women he had unintentionally burdened with his care. It was in a semi conscious state he felt to finger press into his neck. He was alive, actually more alive than he probably appeared. He was fortunate, he was young, in outstanding shape, and although wounded and bleeding badly with some severe lacerations, no vital organs or arteries had been hit.

As she undressed him she would find a body with well defined muscles, a true midwestern farmboy, red blooded and all american. She would also find his cock flaccid, but impressive if you liked reasonable size and girth, for even in his relaxed stated he was easily eight inches long and a bit under two inches thick, which only got larger and more impressive if aroused. He was neatly trimmed with modest body hair on his muscled chest, sculpted abs, and groin. He winced at the poking, prodding and tending of his injuries, he even heard muffled voices, which seemed to be feminine.

However, it was nearly three hours later when he finally awoke, and tried to sit up, only to realize that he was not yet ready. He was in pain, but someone had clearly tended to him as he was dressed in several bandages. However, that was all, for under the sheet and blanket, he was naked. His mouth felt like sandpaper, and he hoped it would not be long before he might get a bit to drink.

He looked around him, the candles, he was clearly being hid, but cared for. He heard the cellar door, and the sound of heels on the steps, and could not help be feel both relieved and pleased to see a pair of slender shapely legs emerging. Chris craned his neck up, but spoke in little more than a whisper, his voice dry and crackling, "Hello...who is there...do you speak English?"

 

[Belvino]

Marie was stepping down the stairs to the cellar when she heard a male voice calling from below. He was not speaking German though and Marie stopped at the side of his bed looking quizzically at him.

“Elsa!” She called from her position at the young mans bedside.

He was naked now this was true, but a sheet had been pulled up to cover him so it was just his chest that showed. Nevertheless Marie felt a blush creeping on her face as she knelt down and felt his face. She could feel no excess heat, but here the man was still trying to speak to her. Marie shook her head slowly and instead grabbed a jug of water nearby and poured it into a cup.

“Wasser?” Water? She asked holding the cup in front of his face. He must have understood to some degree because his non injured arm lifted and he cupped a hand around the glass, his fingers brushing over hers.

Marie watched as he drunk noting for the first time that the young American was handsome despite looking a little worse for the wear. A smile creased the corners of her mouth and she looked away again when she heard Elsa coming down the stairs.

“He’s talking Elsa, but I don’t think he understands German.”

“Well, I wouldn’t expect him to. He is an American soldier after all,” she responded.

Elsa bent down towards the man and waved at herself and then Marie.

“Mein name ist Elsa, das ist Marie.” My name is Elsa this is Marie.

She began examining his wounds and pointed towards his belly frowning a bit as she did. This time the words she spoke were broken English.

“Lucky,” she made a clicking noise in her mouth and gingerly touched the edge of the dressing, “Lucky not dead.”

She reached for the bedside table and pulled a fragment of metal from it. “This..” She paused and held her hand over his belly again, “Here missed organs… vessels.”

Elsa sat back and frowned watching the young man for a moment, “Not safe here.”

 

[Homerun2611]

Luckily he was right, or so he assumed, as it was a woman coming down the steps, a smaller, petite but somewhat voluptuous brunette. Although her clothes did little to accent her obvious charms, she had a body that was appealing from every angle and a wholesomeness that for the right type of man would lead to wicked thoughts of submissiveness.

Chris though was not that type of man, at least not yet. He was a country boy, farmer actually, attending a segregated school in the small town of Bettendorf that sat on the eastern edge of Iowa, bordering Illinois along the mighty Mississippi River. He had led, up to know a very protected, even naïve life. It was only his skill as an athlete and his knack for fixing anything mechanical that had given him an opportunity at the University of Iowa. He had been a virgin up until 6 months ago, when he and Becky had done the deed in the back of his flatbed Chevy pick up, the night before he left for college. College his sophomore year! Becky was his high school sweetheart, but she had held onto her virginity through high school and even as they exchanged almost weekly letters during his freshman year.

Chris was quite the virile young man, and taking Becky's sweet cherry, had led to their need for a second go. However they had only had the one condom, the one Chris had been carrying in his wallet for two years now, but young lust had been such they had both willingly played Russian roulette. The odds were in their favor, and it wasn't until Chris was back at school and recruited into officer's training, that he got the letter from Becky, that there had indeed been a bullet in the chamber.

Becky was as Catholic as Catholic could be, and so an abortion was not even considered. However, her parents would not allow her to disgrace them either in the proper little farm town. And so, when Chris got the letter, telling him what was happening, he was also informed that Becky was going to marry Billy Fairfield, a friend of his from high school. Billy was asthmatic and medically disqualified to serve. Chris knew that he had always had a crush on Becky, and so, convincing him to step in had been pretty easy. Such it was that Chris had left for the war, and somehow ended up in the cellar of Marie, and as he would now also meet, Else.

As Marie entered, he tried to sit up, wincing at the pain. His sheet and blanket slipped down revealing more of his muscular, moderately hairy chest. The coolness of the air felt good, and only when he saw the woman blush did he feel a bit self conscious. "Oh, I'm sorry ma'am..." Chris too was blushing, but with his two day growth of beard, it was a bit more difficult to recognize.

When she first cried out for her friend, Chris was hoping he hadn't startled her, but when she offered him, "Wasser?" He realized she likely did not speak English. Chris grandfather was an immigrant from Germany, who had come to Ellis Island when he was a small boy, orphaned on the voyage over. He had ridden the orphan train and been picked up by a family in Iowa, finally buying a small farm of his own when he became an adult. In his interactions with his grandfather, Chris had learned a bit, a wee bit of German, but enough to do some basic communication. His entire vocabulary was less than 200 words, probably much less that he could remember and use, but it was a start.

He drank the water thankfully, the sandpaper in his tongue returning to something more normal. But then he saw Else join, and he felt a lump in his throat. She was blonde, a bit more striking with sharper but equally beautiful features. Slim as well, but a body that was best described as elegant. A bit taller, Chris tried to get his bearings while his mind whirled with the thought of being cared for by these humble beauties.

When the women talked with each other, they spoke too quickly for Chris to really follow so he waited until Else came over to him and examined him. She was clearly the more experienced medically, and he would find out later, in most things, particularly sexual. Yet, despite their beauty, attraction was the last thing on his mind, survival was.

She introduced herself, and then Marie. Chris nodded, smiling weakly, "Hello Else..." He looked making sure he said it right, "Marie..." He said looking at the other, again smiling. "My name is Chris ..." He was prepared to say more but Else took over. Her hands touched and patted, shooting brief jolts of pain, but her touch was tender and caring.

"Yes, I am lucky...lucky to be alive, lucky to have..." He raised his finger and pointed, first to Else, and then Marie. "You!" It didn't matter if he was a bit bloody and hadn't showered in two days now, Chris was naturally handsome, with sparkling blue eyes and an incredible smile. But the smile went away as she told him it wasn't safe. Chris took a deep breath, it was his turn to speak, "Mein Großvater war Deutscher, und ich spreche ein paar Worte, falls das hilft ..." "My grandfather was german, and I speak a few words, if that helps ..." He continued on, "Do I put you in danger, my being here ... I am so sorry, I don't want to hurt you...what can I do?"

 

[Belvino]

Mein Großvater war Deutscher, und ich spreche ein paar Worte, falls das hilft ..." "My grandfather was german, and I speak a few words, if that helps ..."

Elsa’s eyes widened in surprise as the young American soldier spoke in German to them. She hadn’t been expecting that to be sure. For a moment she was silent watching him warily suddenly concerned he was a spy. But what of it? Even if he was it would be too late for all of them. She looked up at Marie who glanced at her briefly, but then looked back at the young man.

“It is the most dire of situations you have put upon us,” she sat back in the chair repressing a sigh, “A gestapo agent and some SS troops have traveled here seeking survivors of the crash.”

“You were flying in a plane were you not?” Marie piped up from where she stood. Both of the women had fallen back into German and spoke without hesitation though Elsa wondered how much he was understanding. Elsa was frowning now a look of deep concern on her features, absently she rubbed her arms her mind drifting back to the memory of Karl’s grasping hands clambering all over her.

“We cannot stay here, they… they are persuasive and have found the two of us to be a very entertaining adventure,” Elsa said grimacing at the thought. She watched Chris all the time and his expression seemed to darken then, a look she understood very well settling upon him.

“Yes… so you see.. we need to leave but you are not well,” Elsa hesitated a moment and looked away from him shaking her head slowly, “I cannot leave you behind.”


Elsa had been gripping her hands in worry, but she stopped suddenly. She rose to her feet and gestured to the water at his bedside. “I suggest you drink, Chris. You will need everything for our journey ahead, but we shall not leave just yet.”

The two women spoke among themselves then and Marie left the cellar, returning with a hearty bowl of stew. She placed this on the table next to Chris and smiled kindly at him before she left.

Elsa meanwhile rummaged within her kit. Withdrawing a large needle, and syringe she plunged the set into a vial containing a liquid within which was somewhat milky in appearance. She gestured to Chris and there was something of a smirk on her lips as she noticed him staring at the needle.

“This is to fight bacteria, it will go into..” She patted her butt to illustrate the movement and seeing his expression she laughed out loud.

“I promise it won’t hurt… much,” Elsa said.

Elsa leaned forward and her fingers brushed softly at Chris’s hips hooking at the edge of the sheet which she drew back. This time her gaze seemed to focus upon his manhood, and she felt herself swallow hard, the beginning of a blush blooming across her cheeks. He rolled for her and exposed his rear. She wiped a small area with a cloth soaked in alcohol and then quickly jabbed the needle in. She could see he was now gritting his teeth as she pushed the medication in and then withdrew the needle. Something compelled her in that moment to give the area a sharp pat, and his cry of surprise sent a delightful tingle throughout her body.

“All done,” she said a smile lifting the corners of her lips.

 

[Homerun2611]

The women, the taller blonde, Elsa, and the shorter, brunette, Marie, did not even have to try, they were naturally, beautiful, yet Chris couldn't help wonder, what they might look like if they were so inclined, dressed in gowns or lingerie? It was a silly thought, but it had been weeks if not months since Chris had been with his ex girlfriend and somehow he found thinking of them as women, made his heart beat a little faster and increased the will to improve. Even if they weren't as appealing as they were, it wouldn't have mattered for they were to Chris, angels that somehow had blessed him.

They had answered when he knocked, and taken him in, helping and caring for him, the only question was why he was apparently hidden below ground. Elsa clearly answered that question, and he dropped his eyes in shame at the peril his presence had put them in.

When she told him the position he had put them in, he was suddenly ashamed. Shaking his head, “I … I am so sorry. He brought his handsome blue eyes up to hers. “Elsa, thank you for what you have done, but you didn't and don’t have to. You don't owe me anything." They found themselves going back and forth between English and German as they talked, relying on their native tongue when specific words eluded them. "I was injured and wasn’t thinking as I saw your home, I should have realized ... When I became a soldier I knew I might die for my country, but …” And he even let a sheepish grin curl his lips, “… I would much rather face my maker in protecting the two of you. If turning me in, or my leaving would protect you, I will.” It was a sincere but silly offer. Of course they could leave him, but Chris was not yet in position to go anywhere.

Marie asked about the plane, and a sadness washed over Chris, “Yes, I was the copilot, Charlie …” Chris paused to swallow the lump rising in his throat. “… was a good man, he died while we were still in the air, the plane was going down fast, your field was the only spot to crash land, and I guided it down .. sort of." Chris closed his eyes, remembering the crashing through the limps while landing the propeller based plane. "When I landed, I made sure Charlie was dead, and then I burned the plane, so the Nazi’s wouldn’t rob or desecrate his …”

He didn’t finish, “I’m sorry, I know you're German, but …” But what, his only hope was their reaction to the Gestapo suggested they had no love for the actions of the Third Reich either. Suddenly he remembered something, looking up at first Elsa, and then Marie, “I took Charlie’s diary before leaving the plane and took it from his pocked and put it in mine, I wanted to send it to his wife, did you see it when you … “ He blushed, “… undressed me?”

“I hoped burning the plane, might make them think there were no survivors, it was all I could do.” They didn’t seem angry, just frightened. He didn't blame them. “Entertaining adventure… did they hurt you? Touch you?” The thought sickened Chris, he was a boy who had been raised by a strong, yet beautiful mother, and he had a strong respect of women. He felt so helpless and guilty in this bed. “I wish I could protect you … soon perhaps?”

Marie left and then brought back a nice thick stew. Chris was famished, despite his injuries. He listened as they talked, not following every word, but getting the gist. He hadn’t eaten anything in days, and at first his stomach rumbled. Soon though, the rich stew lines his stomach walls and he even sensed a bit of strength.

When told to drink, he did, in her way Elsa was quite commanding. He was very appreciative of Elsa’s words, “Are you sure you don't want to leave me, I would understand.” He meant that, but something also stirred within him at the adventure, traveling and escaping with the two women. He even felt guilty at his growing attraction. It was then that Elsa emerged from her bag with the long needle which she suggested was an antibiotic, the sight of the needle was less appealing, that was, until she patted her firm, tight ass to let him know the needle’s target. He laughed, "So, you wish me to give that to you then?"

It was the closest thing he had done to flirting, as he was naturally charming and chivalrous, but not really a flirt. Elsa was once again all business, lifting his sheet and then, his eyes followed hers. She seemed to blush and swallow, in no particular hurry to avert her gaze. Chris was now blushing, but he had been in enough locker rooms to know, even flaccid, he was quite the male specimen, a solid 8 if not closer to nine inches when hard, but still substantial even in this state.

His only girlfriend, high school sweethearts that had extended into college, until his leaving and getting a Dear John note, had initially complained, "Does it have to be so big?" However, over time, the stretching and wincing grew into moans of utmost satisfaction.

The moment was slightly awkward, and in desperation Chris broke the ice, “I guess there is no reason to be shy, you have pretty much seen all of me haven’t you?”

He was trying to joke, but feared he might have offended. “I’m not saying you did … it’s just that … I really do appreciate all you have done, I do feel I was rescued by angels.” Without further delay, in went the needle only to be accompanied by a playful pat to his ass. "Hey, I will get you for that ... Turnabout is fair play, isn't it?"
She simply smiled her work finished. "I will drink and eat, and I can be pretty tough, even though it doesn't seem like it. How soon would you like to be ready to leave? Do you think we have five days or a week, I would hope I could move about by then?"

He had no idea if he was being optimistic in his prognosis or not, but Elsa might have an idea, "I will do whatever you ask, and if there comes a time you have to simply leave me, it is okay, it really is..." He didn't know if it was the food or the antibiotic, or, he didn't think he had been given any morphine, but he trusted Elsa whatever. Right now all he wanted to do was get some sleep and try to get strong enough to be of use!