twonines
LIMERICUS
He certainly left some fine prints on her tight little!Next time, Barb, apply for the WAAF!
Watch out! He is threatening with fine print!
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It continued in London
- Thread starter Barbaria1
- Start date
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
The Gestapo, next SIS section D, now Morris! Barb's tight little is already a chaos of fine print!
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Chapter 10
Somewhere in the hills beyond Arisaig House, Scotland, Wednesday, 30th August 1939
Warrant Officer Morris’ orders for the day, which luck would have it dawned blustery and rainy, were intended as a test of stealth and endurance. He’d divided his trainee charges into two sections of six recruits each.
Section A was given a head start, and sent deep into the hills. Its objective was to lay an ambush for Section B, with the aim of taking and interrogating hostages. Section B was to follow an hour and a half later. Its objective was to sniff out the trap before it was sprung, foil it and reach a predetermined point on the coast where a patrol craft would evacuate them safely. Trainee Agent ‘Miss’ Barbara Mohr was duly assigned to Section B.
She had just resumed training after a three-day convalescence in the Arisaig camp infirmary under the care of Doctor Evangeline Price, who knew her job and had insisted on three full days of care.
William the blond-haired snitch had reported Barb’s little book to his senior officer who had duly taken the poor Fräulein and thoroughly beaten her, a punishment designed to make her quit. But Barb was made of stronger stuff than Morris gave her credit for and she had taken herself to the sickbay.
Whilst fully aware of the training objectives that her colleagues had been tasked with, when someone in the condition which Trainee Agent Barbara Mohr had been in, turning up naked on the Infirmary’s doorstep, Evangeline Price had been determined not to let anyone stand in the way of her Hippocratic oath. And so, when WO Morris had arrived shortly afterwards, she, with a look of disgust on her face, sent him away with the proverbial flea in his ear.
And so for three whole days Barbara was cared for. The physical beatings she’d endured had fortunately been designed to hurt and not to destroy, and so regular applications of compound sulfanilamide to the worst of the cuts and welts and continuous rest and recuperation had her energies back and ready to begin again.
Only now it was to be different. Morris had checked with London, and much to his chagrin he’d been told in no uncertain terms who Fräulein Mohr was, and what they expected of him whilst she was in his care. So, he was committed to bringing her field instruction to a successful conclusion … hence his decision to not only assign her to Section B which faced the more challenging task, but also to put her in command of an exercise set in the ‘Rough Bounds’ highland district neighbouring Arisaig.
Understandably the other five trainees assigned to Section B were anything but thrilled with the prospect of following Barb’s lead into the wilds, but orders were orders. So as soon as Section A had disappeared into the hills, they had gathered around to peer over her shoulders at the topographical map she’d spread on the ground.
“Listen,” she began. “Let’s try to think about this as Section A would. Much of the terrain between here and our objective is open moorland with little cover, so they’re likely to withdraw to near the coast which must be accessed by descending through any one of these more densely foliaged ravines. Their immediate problem is that they do not know the exact location of our patrol boat rendezvous. Only we do. That means they need to split up to cover the potential access points, of which there are too many for their small force. They’ll therefore try to cover the ones that they deem most likely.”
Surprisingly impressed, they nodded and listened on.
“So here’s what I think we should do. We’ll move overland to this point,” she said, laying her index finger on the map. “It’s ideal, because it’s a relatively deep depression where we ought to be shielded from any direct line of sight. The mist and rain coming in off the sea should also work on our favor. And from that spot we have reasonably covered access to all four of the ravines that lead down to the beach front. The trick then is to determine, which of the four they have chosen to cover.”
“And how do we do that? questioned Richards, who had shown himself early on to be the most cautiously thoughtful of the trainees”
“We probe. We cautiously probe each of these four approaches … here, here, here and here,” she replied pointing to locations on the map. We assume as there are six of them, they’ll do the conventional thing and break into teams of two, which means one of these approaches is open to us if we can determine which it is.”
“Right,” they chorused.
“We’ll also probe the approaches one at a time, in similar sized teams, taking care not to make contact if the opposition is spotted. Should a team determine the presence of the opposition they’ll quietly withdraw and report back to the others. Once we determine which is the undefended approach, we all go through. Gilbert and Sullivan will be our first team. Then Benson and Hedges, and then Richards and me. If all agree on the best way to the beach, we go in.”
“Right.”
******
Nearly four hours of miserable trekking through a driving rain brought Barbara’s team to the depression she had identified. There they lay prone amidst a soaking wet cover of gorse, buckthorn, and juniper. The first team was sent out and returned shortly to report that their assigned approach was covered by the other side. The second team was gone longer but returned to report the same. That left two approaches, one of which was likely open, the other closed.
Barbara frowned. She had to choose.
“Alright, Richards and I will try that one,” she declared after a moment’s hesitation. I’ve a hunch it’s got to be the one.”
After around a quarter of an hour of stealthily following a rushing stream down through a heavily wooded draw, she suddenly stopped, turned and hand-signaled Richards … trailing a good distance back, to freeze in place. Assured that he was stationary, she moved cautiously on, crossing over the stream and rounding a bend … when disaster struck.
Disaster in the form of an arm suddenly wrapping around her from behind to press the blade of a knife against her throat!
“Freeze!” a voice hissed in her ear, followed by the command, “step into the stream and keep walking!”
She obeyed, and prayed that Richards had seen what had happened and would have the good sense to retreat. They’d obviously blundered into a trap. She could feel the hot breath of her captor on the back of her neck as they followed the stream around a few more bends, to enter a heavily wooded stretch where a second member of the A team emerged from cover.
It was at that point that the one with the knife at her throat revealed himself to be none other than her blonde-headed tormentor, William.
“Look what we’ve got ourselves here,” her nemesis crowed to his comrade, “it’s our own resident Kraut-whore, Fräulein Mohr.
His chum, Thornton, nodded and grinned.
“So, let me see now, if I recall correctly Warrant Officer Morris’ orders called on us to take and interrogate hostages, am I right?”
Thornton nodded, and raised his Bren gun to cover Barbara.
“Then, I believe our next move is to thoroughly interrogate this Kraut bitch,” declared Williams withdrawing his knife from her throat and coming around to confront her. “I should think that any proper interrogation should begin with a strip search.
Barbara gave him a contemptuous look, but knew she’d little choice but to comply as Morris’s rules of engagement required as much. She’d unfortunately blundered into being taken prisoner. Williams was fully in his right to carry out an interrogation as he sought fit.
Take it off, Mohr! Every last bit of it. We’ve missed the pleasure of viewing your bare little ass and tits in the barracks shower since you went off to the infirmary. Thornton and I fully intend to make up for it now. Move!”
She bit her lip, hoped that Richards had the good sense to beat a prudent retreat back to the rest of the team, and began to get herself out of her camouflaged overall fatigues.
“Good, don’t stop there!” crowed Williams gleefully. “Underthings, boots and socks! Everything off! Completely naked! Mach’ schnell, Kraut-whore!”
“Bastards!” she muttered as she complied.
“Now turn around!” Williams ordered as he roughly set about binding her wrists behind her back with a short length of cord.
“Owww!” she winced, her eyes on her coveralls, pants, blouse and underwear floating lazily away downstream.
“Now sit down in the water!”
“It’s cold!”
“Do it!
“Fuck!” she muttered sitting herself down facing downstream, the clear cold highland waters swirling around her hips and rippling over her legs before resuming its downstream journey.
“Alright, now … first question … where’s the rest of your team?”
“Tr … Trainee Agent … Barbara Mo … Mohr” she stammered.
“You can do better than that!” he snarled, reaching down to pinch one of his shivering captive’s hardened nipples and twisting it violently.
“0wwww! … Trainee Agent Barbara Mohr.”
“Answer the question!” he hissed leaning over to grip her chin and force her to look him directly in the eye.
“Trainee Agent Barbara Mohr.”
“Tell me, Thornton. Do you recall any prohibitions in W.O. Morris’ assignment instructions against using force to get a prisoner to talk?”
“No … only that lethal force is prohibited.”
“Good. Hear that Kraut-cunt Mohr? Last chance … where’s the rest of your team?”
“Trainee Agent Barbara Mohr.”
“On your knees then, Kraut-cunt Mohr, I’ve been fantasizing about buggering you since the moment I first laid eyes on you back in the Barrack’s shower room several days ago.”
“Trainee Agent Barbara Mohr.”
“You’re not going to like this, Trainee Agent Barbara Mohr,” he continued mockingly, tugging at her hips to position her bent over in the rushing water … her ass cheeks spread apart and vulnerable to a forced penetration by his fully engorged and rigid member.
“Wait Williams, I’m not so sure that …”
“Shut up, Thornton get over here and help me hold her into position, then …”
“Not today, Williams!” growled Richards, jamming the muzzle of his Bren gun from behind into the base of the blonde brute’s neck. Get that thing back in, button up, and hands in the air.
Barbara slowly raised her head to see her entire B Team arrayed in a semi-circle, weapons trained on Williams and Thornton.
****************
Aboard an offshore motor launch, Warrant Officer Morris, training his field glasses on the distant beach, let out a low whistle and muttered, “Well, I’ll be damned.”
For emerging, half shrouded in the evening mist, from one of the beach ravines and driving two prisoners before them, was Team B.
Focusing in, he was able to identify the two captives as Team A’s Williams and Thornton. Williams was bare-chested. Directly behind him, holding the muzzle of a gun to his back with one hand was a barefoot and bare legged Barbara Mohr. With her other hand she was clutching to her chest what presumably, judging by its large size on her small frame, was William’s uniform blouse.
“I’ll be damned,” repeated Morris.
The Windmill Theatre, 17-19 Great Windmill Street, Westminster, London. Saturday evening, 26th August 1939
“Well, what did you think of the show?” asked Underwood amiably of his guest as they made their way out on to the street in front of the theatre.
“I must say … I did enjoy the final nude tableau,” answered Reinhardt thoughtfully. “Such beautiful girls they are! And the, ‘American Indian’ theme finale was a special treat to a German fellow, like myself, who grew up enthralled by the ‘Wild West’ novels of Karl Friedrich May. But the central, starring girl in the tableau, I suspect we can both agree … while very beautiful … was not nearly as spellbindingly lovely as Fraulein Barbara Mohr … nicht wahr?”
“Yes, Bernstein, on that we can most definitely agree. But Miss Mohr, I’m sure, being high bred and well mannered would never stoop to living the life of a showgirl.”
“Yes, agreed. And I must add that our seating gave us such an excellent vantage point. You must be an important man to have access to the ‘Royal Box’.”
“It does help at times to know the right people,” allowed Underwood with a wink of an eye. “But what say we get ourselves something to eat. I’ve reserved us a table at The Gargoyle. I think you’ll find it interesting.”
Minutes later they found themselves ushered to a table in the famous club’s elegant Henri Matisse inspired Moorish-styled dining room, with its elaborate gold leaf coffered ceiling and wall mosaics of cut glass from an 18th-century chateau.
“Truly stunning,” admitted Reinhardt, looking about at the decor as well as the other guests, some of which he recognized as members of London’s elite. “Tell me Underwood, what exactly do you do? I know you’re in the government here, I believe you once mentioned the Foreign Office. Surely you must be very high up to be able to treat me to the likes of this evening?”
“Not all that high up,” Underwood replied modestly but evasively. “But here, let’s order a good wine and drink to the one thing we most hold in common, a lustful respect for the beauty of Miss Barbara Mohr, whose extended absence at Balmoral has brought us together!”
Later, after a sumptuous meal and easy conversation, Reinhardt offered a suggestion. “This has been a wonderful evening, Underwood. I’ve truly enjoyed myself and your company. But I must say that the nude revue at The Windmill, along with good wine and food, and our shared admiration for the delectable feminine charms of Fraulein Mohr, has made me feel quite … what is the English word … ahh yes ... randy. What do you say to the suggestion that we close out the evening with a pleasant bit of whoring? I happen to know of a certain Helen who pleases well and who undoubtedly has a friend or two?”
“Splendid idea, Bernstein. Do lead on!”
TBC
Somewhere in the hills beyond Arisaig House, Scotland, Wednesday, 30th August 1939
Warrant Officer Morris’ orders for the day, which luck would have it dawned blustery and rainy, were intended as a test of stealth and endurance. He’d divided his trainee charges into two sections of six recruits each.
Section A was given a head start, and sent deep into the hills. Its objective was to lay an ambush for Section B, with the aim of taking and interrogating hostages. Section B was to follow an hour and a half later. Its objective was to sniff out the trap before it was sprung, foil it and reach a predetermined point on the coast where a patrol craft would evacuate them safely. Trainee Agent ‘Miss’ Barbara Mohr was duly assigned to Section B.
She had just resumed training after a three-day convalescence in the Arisaig camp infirmary under the care of Doctor Evangeline Price, who knew her job and had insisted on three full days of care.
William the blond-haired snitch had reported Barb’s little book to his senior officer who had duly taken the poor Fräulein and thoroughly beaten her, a punishment designed to make her quit. But Barb was made of stronger stuff than Morris gave her credit for and she had taken herself to the sickbay.
Whilst fully aware of the training objectives that her colleagues had been tasked with, when someone in the condition which Trainee Agent Barbara Mohr had been in, turning up naked on the Infirmary’s doorstep, Evangeline Price had been determined not to let anyone stand in the way of her Hippocratic oath. And so, when WO Morris had arrived shortly afterwards, she, with a look of disgust on her face, sent him away with the proverbial flea in his ear.
And so for three whole days Barbara was cared for. The physical beatings she’d endured had fortunately been designed to hurt and not to destroy, and so regular applications of compound sulfanilamide to the worst of the cuts and welts and continuous rest and recuperation had her energies back and ready to begin again.
Only now it was to be different. Morris had checked with London, and much to his chagrin he’d been told in no uncertain terms who Fräulein Mohr was, and what they expected of him whilst she was in his care. So, he was committed to bringing her field instruction to a successful conclusion … hence his decision to not only assign her to Section B which faced the more challenging task, but also to put her in command of an exercise set in the ‘Rough Bounds’ highland district neighbouring Arisaig.
Understandably the other five trainees assigned to Section B were anything but thrilled with the prospect of following Barb’s lead into the wilds, but orders were orders. So as soon as Section A had disappeared into the hills, they had gathered around to peer over her shoulders at the topographical map she’d spread on the ground.
“Listen,” she began. “Let’s try to think about this as Section A would. Much of the terrain between here and our objective is open moorland with little cover, so they’re likely to withdraw to near the coast which must be accessed by descending through any one of these more densely foliaged ravines. Their immediate problem is that they do not know the exact location of our patrol boat rendezvous. Only we do. That means they need to split up to cover the potential access points, of which there are too many for their small force. They’ll therefore try to cover the ones that they deem most likely.”
Surprisingly impressed, they nodded and listened on.
“So here’s what I think we should do. We’ll move overland to this point,” she said, laying her index finger on the map. “It’s ideal, because it’s a relatively deep depression where we ought to be shielded from any direct line of sight. The mist and rain coming in off the sea should also work on our favor. And from that spot we have reasonably covered access to all four of the ravines that lead down to the beach front. The trick then is to determine, which of the four they have chosen to cover.”
“And how do we do that? questioned Richards, who had shown himself early on to be the most cautiously thoughtful of the trainees”
“We probe. We cautiously probe each of these four approaches … here, here, here and here,” she replied pointing to locations on the map. We assume as there are six of them, they’ll do the conventional thing and break into teams of two, which means one of these approaches is open to us if we can determine which it is.”
“Right,” they chorused.
“We’ll also probe the approaches one at a time, in similar sized teams, taking care not to make contact if the opposition is spotted. Should a team determine the presence of the opposition they’ll quietly withdraw and report back to the others. Once we determine which is the undefended approach, we all go through. Gilbert and Sullivan will be our first team. Then Benson and Hedges, and then Richards and me. If all agree on the best way to the beach, we go in.”
“Right.”
******
Nearly four hours of miserable trekking through a driving rain brought Barbara’s team to the depression she had identified. There they lay prone amidst a soaking wet cover of gorse, buckthorn, and juniper. The first team was sent out and returned shortly to report that their assigned approach was covered by the other side. The second team was gone longer but returned to report the same. That left two approaches, one of which was likely open, the other closed.
Barbara frowned. She had to choose.
“Alright, Richards and I will try that one,” she declared after a moment’s hesitation. I’ve a hunch it’s got to be the one.”
After around a quarter of an hour of stealthily following a rushing stream down through a heavily wooded draw, she suddenly stopped, turned and hand-signaled Richards … trailing a good distance back, to freeze in place. Assured that he was stationary, she moved cautiously on, crossing over the stream and rounding a bend … when disaster struck.
Disaster in the form of an arm suddenly wrapping around her from behind to press the blade of a knife against her throat!
“Freeze!” a voice hissed in her ear, followed by the command, “step into the stream and keep walking!”
She obeyed, and prayed that Richards had seen what had happened and would have the good sense to retreat. They’d obviously blundered into a trap. She could feel the hot breath of her captor on the back of her neck as they followed the stream around a few more bends, to enter a heavily wooded stretch where a second member of the A team emerged from cover.
It was at that point that the one with the knife at her throat revealed himself to be none other than her blonde-headed tormentor, William.
“Look what we’ve got ourselves here,” her nemesis crowed to his comrade, “it’s our own resident Kraut-whore, Fräulein Mohr.
His chum, Thornton, nodded and grinned.
“So, let me see now, if I recall correctly Warrant Officer Morris’ orders called on us to take and interrogate hostages, am I right?”
Thornton nodded, and raised his Bren gun to cover Barbara.
“Then, I believe our next move is to thoroughly interrogate this Kraut bitch,” declared Williams withdrawing his knife from her throat and coming around to confront her. “I should think that any proper interrogation should begin with a strip search.
Barbara gave him a contemptuous look, but knew she’d little choice but to comply as Morris’s rules of engagement required as much. She’d unfortunately blundered into being taken prisoner. Williams was fully in his right to carry out an interrogation as he sought fit.
Take it off, Mohr! Every last bit of it. We’ve missed the pleasure of viewing your bare little ass and tits in the barracks shower since you went off to the infirmary. Thornton and I fully intend to make up for it now. Move!”
She bit her lip, hoped that Richards had the good sense to beat a prudent retreat back to the rest of the team, and began to get herself out of her camouflaged overall fatigues.
“Good, don’t stop there!” crowed Williams gleefully. “Underthings, boots and socks! Everything off! Completely naked! Mach’ schnell, Kraut-whore!”
“Bastards!” she muttered as she complied.
“Now turn around!” Williams ordered as he roughly set about binding her wrists behind her back with a short length of cord.
“Owww!” she winced, her eyes on her coveralls, pants, blouse and underwear floating lazily away downstream.
“Now sit down in the water!”
“It’s cold!”
“Do it!
“Fuck!” she muttered sitting herself down facing downstream, the clear cold highland waters swirling around her hips and rippling over her legs before resuming its downstream journey.
“Alright, now … first question … where’s the rest of your team?”
“Tr … Trainee Agent … Barbara Mo … Mohr” she stammered.
“You can do better than that!” he snarled, reaching down to pinch one of his shivering captive’s hardened nipples and twisting it violently.
“0wwww! … Trainee Agent Barbara Mohr.”
“Answer the question!” he hissed leaning over to grip her chin and force her to look him directly in the eye.
“Trainee Agent Barbara Mohr.”
“Tell me, Thornton. Do you recall any prohibitions in W.O. Morris’ assignment instructions against using force to get a prisoner to talk?”
“No … only that lethal force is prohibited.”
“Good. Hear that Kraut-cunt Mohr? Last chance … where’s the rest of your team?”
“Trainee Agent Barbara Mohr.”
“On your knees then, Kraut-cunt Mohr, I’ve been fantasizing about buggering you since the moment I first laid eyes on you back in the Barrack’s shower room several days ago.”
“Trainee Agent Barbara Mohr.”
“You’re not going to like this, Trainee Agent Barbara Mohr,” he continued mockingly, tugging at her hips to position her bent over in the rushing water … her ass cheeks spread apart and vulnerable to a forced penetration by his fully engorged and rigid member.
“Wait Williams, I’m not so sure that …”
“Shut up, Thornton get over here and help me hold her into position, then …”
“Not today, Williams!” growled Richards, jamming the muzzle of his Bren gun from behind into the base of the blonde brute’s neck. Get that thing back in, button up, and hands in the air.
Barbara slowly raised her head to see her entire B Team arrayed in a semi-circle, weapons trained on Williams and Thornton.
****************
Aboard an offshore motor launch, Warrant Officer Morris, training his field glasses on the distant beach, let out a low whistle and muttered, “Well, I’ll be damned.”
For emerging, half shrouded in the evening mist, from one of the beach ravines and driving two prisoners before them, was Team B.
Focusing in, he was able to identify the two captives as Team A’s Williams and Thornton. Williams was bare-chested. Directly behind him, holding the muzzle of a gun to his back with one hand was a barefoot and bare legged Barbara Mohr. With her other hand she was clutching to her chest what presumably, judging by its large size on her small frame, was William’s uniform blouse.
“I’ll be damned,” repeated Morris.
The Windmill Theatre, 17-19 Great Windmill Street, Westminster, London. Saturday evening, 26th August 1939
“Well, what did you think of the show?” asked Underwood amiably of his guest as they made their way out on to the street in front of the theatre.
“I must say … I did enjoy the final nude tableau,” answered Reinhardt thoughtfully. “Such beautiful girls they are! And the, ‘American Indian’ theme finale was a special treat to a German fellow, like myself, who grew up enthralled by the ‘Wild West’ novels of Karl Friedrich May. But the central, starring girl in the tableau, I suspect we can both agree … while very beautiful … was not nearly as spellbindingly lovely as Fraulein Barbara Mohr … nicht wahr?”
“Yes, Bernstein, on that we can most definitely agree. But Miss Mohr, I’m sure, being high bred and well mannered would never stoop to living the life of a showgirl.”
“Yes, agreed. And I must add that our seating gave us such an excellent vantage point. You must be an important man to have access to the ‘Royal Box’.”
“It does help at times to know the right people,” allowed Underwood with a wink of an eye. “But what say we get ourselves something to eat. I’ve reserved us a table at The Gargoyle. I think you’ll find it interesting.”
Minutes later they found themselves ushered to a table in the famous club’s elegant Henri Matisse inspired Moorish-styled dining room, with its elaborate gold leaf coffered ceiling and wall mosaics of cut glass from an 18th-century chateau.
“Truly stunning,” admitted Reinhardt, looking about at the decor as well as the other guests, some of which he recognized as members of London’s elite. “Tell me Underwood, what exactly do you do? I know you’re in the government here, I believe you once mentioned the Foreign Office. Surely you must be very high up to be able to treat me to the likes of this evening?”
“Not all that high up,” Underwood replied modestly but evasively. “But here, let’s order a good wine and drink to the one thing we most hold in common, a lustful respect for the beauty of Miss Barbara Mohr, whose extended absence at Balmoral has brought us together!”
Later, after a sumptuous meal and easy conversation, Reinhardt offered a suggestion. “This has been a wonderful evening, Underwood. I’ve truly enjoyed myself and your company. But I must say that the nude revue at The Windmill, along with good wine and food, and our shared admiration for the delectable feminine charms of Fraulein Mohr, has made me feel quite … what is the English word … ahh yes ... randy. What do you say to the suggestion that we close out the evening with a pleasant bit of whoring? I happen to know of a certain Helen who pleases well and who undoubtedly has a friend or two?”
“Splendid idea, Bernstein. Do lead on!”
TBC
settantuno
MUTUS PICTOR
Attachments
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
Barb's as yet concealed talents as a tactical genius!
Team B Conquer!
Chapter 11
Arisaig House, Scotland, Sunday 3rd September 1939 – 10:45 am
Major Laurence Grand sat with Warrant Officer Morris on the front row of the small theatre style seating arrangement in one of the larger reception rooms at Arisaig House.
“This is Mohr we’re about to see I presume.
“Yes Sir,” Morris replied. “Two full days plus a few hours of intensive training and this is where she is up to.”
Grand had ventured North to see the progress of the girl for himself, and it has to be said, he had travelled in secret without Underwood being the slightest bit aware.
“Will I be pleased Warrant Officer?”
“Please Sir, just watch.”
Three men entered the floor space before them, in which the dark-haired Mohr was now standing, her features sporting a wry smile.
“So, they expect me to entertain low life soldiers like you now do they?” Her English was perfect but she spoke with a slight accent.
“Take off your clothes Nazi bitch, let us see your naked body.” One of the men spoke as he raised his Sten Submachine Gun to point at her.
“Everything,” The soldier added to his instructions.
“Why don’t you help me, huh?” Barb turned, revealing her exposed breasts and moved slowly towards the three-armed soldiers. Her hands were behind her back thrusting her hard nipples forward.
“Now we fuck you …” Came the lust-fuelled words!
In a flash the Trainee Agent Mohr, in all her topless glory, head butted the first man. As he staggered, she raised her right leg to an impossible angle and kicked him in the throat, causing him to lurch, fall and release his gun. Dropping to one knee, and before either of the other men could think beyond their erections and fire at her, she had picked up the Sten Gun and fired at one man, then as he fell, she trained the gun on the third and final man, and then she began laughing and caught the tee shirt that had been thrown across to where she knelt.
Both fallen men stood and dusted themselves down.
“I would so hate to be your fucking date Mohr,” the first man said.
“You have no need to worry about that Charlie,” she chuckled, “I wouldn’t actually shoot you … not on the first date anyway.”
Grand turned to Morris with raised eyebrows. “I’m impressed, is she ready?”
“She is,” Morris replied. But before he could call her to him in order to congratulate her, a young corporal rushed in.
“The radio … you all need to come now, this minute.”
Grand, Morris, Barbara and her stooges all followed the corporal as quickly as they could, and as the clock ticked onto 11:15 am on Sunday 3rd September they heard a familiar voice speaking …
“I am speaking to you from the Cabinet Room at 10, Downing Street.
This morning the British Ambassador in Berlin handed the German Government a final Note stating that unless we heard from them by 11 0'clock that they were prepared at once to withdraw their troops from Poland a state of war would exist between us. I have to tell you now that no such undertaking has been received, and that consequently this country is at war with Germany …”
Room 212 The Savoy Hotel, The Strand, City of Westminster, London, 11pm on Monday 4th September 1939.
It was late by the time she got back to London. Public tube trains were few and far between as the government’s evacuation scheme was well and truly underway, commandeering tube trains, overground trains and buses seemingly ad infinitum!
Fortunately, the previous day’s thunderstorms had held off otherwise by the time she reached her hotel, she would have been drenched from the rain.
Turning the key in the door she entered her rooms, and dropped her bag on the bed. It felt strange to be wearing the clothes she had travelled to Arisaig in, skirt, tie-neck blouse, tweed jacket and heels, after having worn combats for the past two weeks. But she was glad to be back and hopeful of a good night’s sleep in a comfortable bed.
Switching on the standard lamp Barb jumped with a start …
“Oh, oh fuck … Henry, you startled me, what are you …”
Then she frowned and said, “… and why are you sitting in the dark?”
“Hello Barbara,” he said standing, “… the solemn nature of the times seemed to warrant darkness more than light … but now you’re here, then anything that highlights your lovely features is welcome darling girl.” He said and a small grin crept across her face.
“When did you get here?” She asked, now simply accepting of the fact that Henry had a key to her rooms.
“A couple of hours ago. Laurence told me you would be returning today?”
“Oh, he did, did he … and what else did he tell you, huh?” She asked snaking her arms around Henry’s neck.
“Only that you were an excellent student and more than ready for the mission you and I are about to be sent on.”
“Mission?”
“Let’s take a shower Barb. I have had a busy day and you must be in need of a freshen up after such a long train ride all the way down from Edinburgh?”
Barbara smiled. The Flying Scotsman was now taking less than seven and a half hours to travel from Edinburgh to King’s Cross, but it was still a long time to have to sit in one place, and so …
“Yes Henry, a shower with you would be lovely and a most unexpected surprise. I can’t believe you have waited for me to get here before having a wash,” she grinned.
Minutes later they were both naked and in the shower cubicle.
“It’s a good job the Savoy has large showers,” Henry smiled as his gaze ogled her body, watching the suds run down across her wet skin.
Then …
“What the fu … Barb, what’s this, and this, and …”
“Oh stop Henry. Scratches and cuts that’s all. The training was intensive in all aspects.”
“But these look like welts from a …”
“Scratches and cuts, Henry …” Her tone was more harsh this time and accompanied by a look that said, ‘Please stop asking.’
Sensing the conversation was over he stepped right in, grabbing her waist and pulling her to him.
“Damn I missed you,” he groaned and ran his hands, now also wet, over her as she closed her eyes. He turned her roughly around, brushing her wet hair aside to expose her neck and began kissing her shoulder.
She groaned, a sound that emanated both from the luxuriously hot water and the ministrations of her lover, as he wrapped his hands around her and gently palmed both her nipples into an even more hardened state of erection.
Then, with a gentle push, Barb’s palms were flat against the tiles in a position of surrender, and Henry used his foot to spread her legs. An unwitting choke came from her throat as his actions reminded her of Warrant Office Morris in the shower room on that first day, but she bit back the emotion and felt him place one hand in the small of her back, whilst letting the other run slowly down her spine before curving round her bottom allowing his fingers, two of them, to slide into her from behind.
“Fuck you feel so good,” he groaned as he continued to fuck her. She groaned too, letting him take her the way he wanted to, and they came gloriously together ending up in an orgasmic heap against the shining wet wall.
It took several minutes before either of them could talk, at which point she washed the remaining suds off them both, and then got out to dry off leaving Henry to sort himself out.
“Shall I order room service?” Henry asked entering the living area, still towelling dry his hair and wearing nothing but a towel around his waist.
“Yes, please. But only soup for me seeing as how it’s so late.”
By the time that Barbara had eaten, and Henry had watched her devour, the vegetable soup, it was almost 1am.
“Will you stay the night, Henry?”
Captain Underwood nodded, “Yes, of course, but we need to be at Century House for a meeting with Major Grand by 8 am, so that he can brief us on the planned mission.”
“Ahh yes,” she smiled, “… the mysterious mission. Are you not able to tell me anything about it my darling man?”
Henry smiled and shook his head. “I cannot, because I don’t know anything about it, except that it will be you and I, and we will be entering Germany, which of course is now enemy territory, and so it will be dangerous by definition.”
She sighed and sat back in her seat allowing her robe to fall open and expose a long, provocative expanse of thigh to Henry’s watching gaze. “What is Hitler doing with my country Henry?”
“He’s a mad man Barb, and we have to stop him. Likelihood is that he’ll invade Poland next and then France is open to him …”
“Take me to bed Henry and let’s forget all about Adolf Hitler for a few peaceful hours.
TBC
Arisaig House, Scotland, Sunday 3rd September 1939 – 10:45 am
Major Laurence Grand sat with Warrant Officer Morris on the front row of the small theatre style seating arrangement in one of the larger reception rooms at Arisaig House.
“This is Mohr we’re about to see I presume.
“Yes Sir,” Morris replied. “Two full days plus a few hours of intensive training and this is where she is up to.”
Grand had ventured North to see the progress of the girl for himself, and it has to be said, he had travelled in secret without Underwood being the slightest bit aware.
“Will I be pleased Warrant Officer?”
“Please Sir, just watch.”
Three men entered the floor space before them, in which the dark-haired Mohr was now standing, her features sporting a wry smile.
“So, they expect me to entertain low life soldiers like you now do they?” Her English was perfect but she spoke with a slight accent.
“Take off your clothes Nazi bitch, let us see your naked body.” One of the men spoke as he raised his Sten Submachine Gun to point at her.
“Everything,” The soldier added to his instructions.
“Why don’t you help me, huh?” Barb turned, revealing her exposed breasts and moved slowly towards the three-armed soldiers. Her hands were behind her back thrusting her hard nipples forward.
“Now we fuck you …” Came the lust-fuelled words!
In a flash the Trainee Agent Mohr, in all her topless glory, head butted the first man. As he staggered, she raised her right leg to an impossible angle and kicked him in the throat, causing him to lurch, fall and release his gun. Dropping to one knee, and before either of the other men could think beyond their erections and fire at her, she had picked up the Sten Gun and fired at one man, then as he fell, she trained the gun on the third and final man, and then she began laughing and caught the tee shirt that had been thrown across to where she knelt.
Both fallen men stood and dusted themselves down.
“I would so hate to be your fucking date Mohr,” the first man said.
“You have no need to worry about that Charlie,” she chuckled, “I wouldn’t actually shoot you … not on the first date anyway.”
Grand turned to Morris with raised eyebrows. “I’m impressed, is she ready?”
“She is,” Morris replied. But before he could call her to him in order to congratulate her, a young corporal rushed in.
“The radio … you all need to come now, this minute.”
Grand, Morris, Barbara and her stooges all followed the corporal as quickly as they could, and as the clock ticked onto 11:15 am on Sunday 3rd September they heard a familiar voice speaking …
“I am speaking to you from the Cabinet Room at 10, Downing Street.
This morning the British Ambassador in Berlin handed the German Government a final Note stating that unless we heard from them by 11 0'clock that they were prepared at once to withdraw their troops from Poland a state of war would exist between us. I have to tell you now that no such undertaking has been received, and that consequently this country is at war with Germany …”
Room 212 The Savoy Hotel, The Strand, City of Westminster, London, 11pm on Monday 4th September 1939.
It was late by the time she got back to London. Public tube trains were few and far between as the government’s evacuation scheme was well and truly underway, commandeering tube trains, overground trains and buses seemingly ad infinitum!
Fortunately, the previous day’s thunderstorms had held off otherwise by the time she reached her hotel, she would have been drenched from the rain.
Turning the key in the door she entered her rooms, and dropped her bag on the bed. It felt strange to be wearing the clothes she had travelled to Arisaig in, skirt, tie-neck blouse, tweed jacket and heels, after having worn combats for the past two weeks. But she was glad to be back and hopeful of a good night’s sleep in a comfortable bed.
Switching on the standard lamp Barb jumped with a start …
“Oh, oh fuck … Henry, you startled me, what are you …”
Then she frowned and said, “… and why are you sitting in the dark?”
“Hello Barbara,” he said standing, “… the solemn nature of the times seemed to warrant darkness more than light … but now you’re here, then anything that highlights your lovely features is welcome darling girl.” He said and a small grin crept across her face.
“When did you get here?” She asked, now simply accepting of the fact that Henry had a key to her rooms.
“A couple of hours ago. Laurence told me you would be returning today?”
“Oh, he did, did he … and what else did he tell you, huh?” She asked snaking her arms around Henry’s neck.
“Only that you were an excellent student and more than ready for the mission you and I are about to be sent on.”
“Mission?”
“Let’s take a shower Barb. I have had a busy day and you must be in need of a freshen up after such a long train ride all the way down from Edinburgh?”
Barbara smiled. The Flying Scotsman was now taking less than seven and a half hours to travel from Edinburgh to King’s Cross, but it was still a long time to have to sit in one place, and so …
“Yes Henry, a shower with you would be lovely and a most unexpected surprise. I can’t believe you have waited for me to get here before having a wash,” she grinned.
Minutes later they were both naked and in the shower cubicle.
“It’s a good job the Savoy has large showers,” Henry smiled as his gaze ogled her body, watching the suds run down across her wet skin.
Then …
“What the fu … Barb, what’s this, and this, and …”
“Oh stop Henry. Scratches and cuts that’s all. The training was intensive in all aspects.”
“But these look like welts from a …”
“Scratches and cuts, Henry …” Her tone was more harsh this time and accompanied by a look that said, ‘Please stop asking.’
Sensing the conversation was over he stepped right in, grabbing her waist and pulling her to him.
“Damn I missed you,” he groaned and ran his hands, now also wet, over her as she closed her eyes. He turned her roughly around, brushing her wet hair aside to expose her neck and began kissing her shoulder.
She groaned, a sound that emanated both from the luxuriously hot water and the ministrations of her lover, as he wrapped his hands around her and gently palmed both her nipples into an even more hardened state of erection.
Then, with a gentle push, Barb’s palms were flat against the tiles in a position of surrender, and Henry used his foot to spread her legs. An unwitting choke came from her throat as his actions reminded her of Warrant Office Morris in the shower room on that first day, but she bit back the emotion and felt him place one hand in the small of her back, whilst letting the other run slowly down her spine before curving round her bottom allowing his fingers, two of them, to slide into her from behind.
“Fuck you feel so good,” he groaned as he continued to fuck her. She groaned too, letting him take her the way he wanted to, and they came gloriously together ending up in an orgasmic heap against the shining wet wall.
It took several minutes before either of them could talk, at which point she washed the remaining suds off them both, and then got out to dry off leaving Henry to sort himself out.
“Shall I order room service?” Henry asked entering the living area, still towelling dry his hair and wearing nothing but a towel around his waist.
“Yes, please. But only soup for me seeing as how it’s so late.”
By the time that Barbara had eaten, and Henry had watched her devour, the vegetable soup, it was almost 1am.
“Will you stay the night, Henry?”
Captain Underwood nodded, “Yes, of course, but we need to be at Century House for a meeting with Major Grand by 8 am, so that he can brief us on the planned mission.”
“Ahh yes,” she smiled, “… the mysterious mission. Are you not able to tell me anything about it my darling man?”
Henry smiled and shook his head. “I cannot, because I don’t know anything about it, except that it will be you and I, and we will be entering Germany, which of course is now enemy territory, and so it will be dangerous by definition.”
She sighed and sat back in her seat allowing her robe to fall open and expose a long, provocative expanse of thigh to Henry’s watching gaze. “What is Hitler doing with my country Henry?”
“He’s a mad man Barb, and we have to stop him. Likelihood is that he’ll invade Poland next and then France is open to him …”
“Take me to bed Henry and let’s forget all about Adolf Hitler for a few peaceful hours.
TBC
Loxuru
Graf von Kreuzigung
That, gentlemen, are what is called 'demerits'.
We, CF members, are of course since long used to deal with them!
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Genius 99!!
twonines
LIMERICUS
Thanks, Fossy. Not really, it is you and Barb who are doing all the work, and great work it is. We owe you both a vote of thanks.
Fossy
SEXPIOGENTUS
Thank you 99. It really is our pleasure ...
