mother and daughter
All persons in this story are of legal age.
It was crowded in the Maulders’ small flat above the restaurant. Jacob Maulder sat stone faced at the kitchen table fiercely proud and notoriously stubborn yet fearful for the safety of his beloved wife and daughter. The air crackled with an unrelenting tension. Still Jacob clung to the delusion that he was not without bargaining chips. He failed to realise that the unsoluble problem he had was the German’s officer’s enjoyment of the cat-and-mouse game. A game that allowed, even encouraged, Jacob to overplay his hand. Such was the confidence the Nazi had in his advantage, that he would deliberately spool out the thread of hope building the Jews confidence, only to snap him back to reality with an abruptness that verged on cruelty.
Jacob was a fine chef, renowned in Dresden for his exceptional cuisine. Schnurr was a fat bellied Nazi with a taste for fine food that was only exceeded by his appetite for pretty women. In Jacob Maulder’s kitchen he had the means to indulge both of those passions.
Greta Maulder was a handsome woman of thirty-nine, still able to turn heads and cause a stir with just the glimpse of her lovely face and the hint of what jiggled enticingly beneath her conservative clothes. Greta knew she was pretty. She’d known since she was a child that her looks brought her a lot of attention and the occasional advantage. As much as Jacob’s cooking drew customers to the restaurant, Greta’s good looks often brought them back. The tables in the little dining room were filled nightly with the grey and black uniforms of German officers who had made the Maulders restaurant their special place. She and Jacob fed them well and they, in turn, always ensured the Maulders had the best ingredients when others around them had nothing. So many of their Jewish neighbors had been transported by the Nazis that Greta knew that their only hope of staying together depended on the restaurant remaining a favorite with the Nazy officers.
As difficult as it sometimes was, Greta made sure she was always gracious to a fault. She even endured the often crude comments of the soldiers and the occasional wandering hand as she bustled about between the tables, the perfect hostess. It was often Schnurr who took those improper liberties. She hated him for it but often flirted with him nonetheless, hoping he would see them and their little restaurant as worth saving. The powerful Schnurr could send them all to the trains for evacuation if he so chose, and she knew that.
And now there was Magda, their pretty eighteen-year-old daughter, just returned unexpectedly from an exclusive Swiss finishing school in Berne. Unfortunately, the funds to pay her tuition were no longer available once Jacob’s accounts were frozen by the Nazis. She’d been safe there, away from the stigma that being Jewish brought with it here at home. But the Swiss were not in the business of charity. As soon as it became apparent that Magda’s tuition was in question she was asked to leave.
Monday night she’d arrived at the restaurant during the supper hour causing a stir among the dinner guests with her books and baggage. A younger version of Greta just coming into bloom, she looked lovely in her school uniform. For a moment it seemed like the clink of forks and the rattle of dishes went quiet while the officers watched the young beauty struggle through the door with her bags. Had they not been so captured by the girl’s fresh good looks they may have noticed her mother’s expression of open-mouthed surprise. The pure joy of seeing her daughter was countered by a bitter dread that settled in her stomach as she saw the lascivious stares the girl was attracting.
Greta quickly waved her through to the kitchen where a distraught Jacob clattered a plate of schnitzel onto the warming cart. She held up a single finger cautioning her husband to silence while Jacob pressed his palms to his temples in impotent frustration. After a hurried hug and a tearful reassurance, the worried mother helped Magda into the alley and around to the stairs that led to their flat. There’d be time for themselves after the restaurant closed but for now feeding the customers and getting them on their way was all she could manage.
It was Schnurr who took special note of Magda’s arrival and took it upon himself to question her mother about the girl. He knew no children were registered to the Maulders but he saw that the resemblance between the two women immediately. The school uniform was a dead giveaway. With the girl out of the country and away at school they must have thought they’d get away with it.
Greta was canny and smart. She thought quickly on her feet, knowing that Schnurr could check whatever explanation was offered. On the pretense that she and Jacob had simply misunderstood the regulation and thought that it was just children living at home that were to be recorded, she assured him that they’d correct it with the Registry office.
The Nazi looked at her impassively while she made her excuses. Discomfited by his unblinking stare, she finally had to break eye contact and glance away, feeling as if he could see right into her lying soul. For Schnurr that was enough for the time. She knew that he knew, and that was good.
Schnurr had had plans for the mother long before the daughter arrived at the restaurant that night. Now those plans would be more than just a gratuitous piece of ass from a grateful Jewish cunt. Now there could be more reason for her gratitude, more dedication to his needs. Getting either of the two Maulder women to do whatever he wanted would be easy. Women will do anything if they believe that “as bad as things are, they can always get worse”. He was pleased that Magda looked so much like a younger version of her mother. The flawless skin and cascade of auburn curls framing beautiful green eyes left no doubt that they were mother and daughter. The silly cunts would each do whatever he asked, each thinking she may save the other from something even worse.
The girl’s breasts had looked ample in the crisp white blouse of her uniform. Not as full as the mother’s or as given to enticing movement when she walked, but nice. They both had lovely asses. The mother’s larger again but nicely shaped, something substantial to hold onto when he’d sink his cock into her; the daughter’s firm and well toned from exercise and school sports. The firmness was also evident in the the girl’s legs, nicely displayed in the short grey uniform skirt. Greta wore her dresses longer but the occasional glimpse above the knee as she climbed on a chair to open the transom window or crouched to wipe a spill from the dining room floor was enough to confirm that her legs were exceptional.
Schnurr watched for a few nights to see if Magda would show up to help in the restaurant. When she didn’t he felt sure that they were still trying to hide her. After all, from his brief conversation with Greta one would have expected her to go scurrying to the Registry Office to correct the file. When she didn’t he concluded that she was gambling he’d keep her secret and not say anything. Perhaps he would. But such concessions didn’t come without a price to be paid and the Maulder’s were running up quite a tab.
On the Friday night, the restaurant closed before sundown as was the Jewish custom on the night before Sabbath. It was clearly an awkward time for the Maulders. Schnurr knew that when he arrived at their living space with an entourage of eleven demanding that the sullen chef abandon his Sabbath dinner and prepare an evening meal for the group of officers. The imposition on their privacy and the intrusion on their religious practice was calculated to underscore their subservience.
The intent was obvious to Greta but she showed no disrespect to their guests. Jacob, however, was incapable of hiding his feelings. He glared at the grinning Schnurr as if showing his displeasure would encourage the man’s departure. Someone else to cook for the fat officer and his friends. It would not be him tonight.
The Nazi was amused by Jacob’s transparent assumption that expertise in the kitchen could be traded for the personal safety. For a time, it had suited Schnurr’s purpose to allow him that misconception. The reality was coming soon enough and the delivery would be sweeter for having waited. Maulder would do as he was told, nothing less.
Greta could see her husband’s annoyance building and with it his obstinacy. He wasn’t reading the German’s intent very well and she couldn’t catch his eye to caution him. Jacob’s voice had become harsh, strident and uncompromising while the German Officer’s body language was unmistakable. His response to Jacob’s belligerence was inevitable. Even so, the crack of the riding crop slamming onto the kitchen table was like a gunshot in the crowded room startling everybody. Schnurr was on his feet in an instant ominously tapping the crop against Jacob’s chest. There was no compromise in the Officer’s voice when he snapped the startled Jew into silence. Any thought that Schnurr and his men were there for a congenial visit was immediately dispelled. Jacob Maulder needed to be taught a lesson and Schnurr was more than happy to oblige in front of the man’s wife and daughter and eleven other witnesses.
The German officer turned his attention to the frightened Magda who had been folding laundry when they came in. She stood now with her head bowed trying to remain quietly inconspicuous. Schnurr liked that. He ran his hands over the fresh laundry and shook out a pair of women’s underpants and held them up to the amusement of the other soldiers.
“Yours?” he asked the blushing Magda.
“No sir. My mother’s,” she murmured.
Turning to Greta he smiled and said “You should have these on,”
“I’m wearing another pair,” she answered quietly.
“I want you to put these on,” he smiled and winked to the amused soldiers.
Greta reluctantly took them from him and turned to go into the bedroom to change.
“No. Do it here.” He chuckled. “We’ve all seen Jewish pussy before.”
Jacob opened his mouth to object and Schnurr rested the crop across his chest silencing him without a word.
Greta looked furtively around the room without seeing any way to avoid the inevitable.
Her fingers trembled as she undid the broad kitchen apron and placed it on a chair. Her dress was one piece buttoned to the waist and she briefly thought she could just raise it enough to slip her underwear off without removing it entirely. But Schnurr had other ideas.
“Take this off first,” he instructed, flipping the hem of the dress with his riding crop.
Greta undid the buttons on the bodice and slipped the garment off her shoulders. The fullness and shape of her lovely breasts was more apparent once the outer garments were off. She looked at him pleadingly, hoping for a reprieve. But he gestured impatiently and she continued to work the dress down over her hips and thighs until she could step out of it.
Any faint hope that she may have been able to get away with just quickly switching panties disappeared when Schnurr wanted her camisole removed next. Obediently, she pulled it over her head to a murmur of male appreciation that filled the tiny room. Her breasts had only the slightest sag and her spongy pink nipples acknowledged their exposure by springing up as soon as they were bare. Schnurr used the metal-tipped crop to lift each breast before letting it drop quivering against her chest.
Automatically, Greta’s hands went to cover herself from the eyes of the men but Schnurr rapped her knuckles lightly. She stood obediently then with hands at her sides, displayed like an object to be admired by the ogling men crowded around her. A pang of misplaced guilt made her glance toward her husband but he quickly looked away adding to her humiliation and igniting a resentful anger inside of her. “You are to blame for this.” she thought bitterly.
“Give those to your daughter,” Schnurr smiled, pointing, and Greta stepped out of her remaining garment. Naked, she had the attention of everyone in the room. The promise that her body held in clothes was far exceeded by the reality of her gorgeous figure without them. Her behind was full and firm with toned cheeks set high on a dancer’s legs. Thighs, well separated at the top, left a puffy wedge of her vulva visible from the back. The appealing swell of her belly gave way to a profusion of auburn curls on her mons.
Aware that every eye in the room except Jacob’s was on her, Greta turned and handed the underpants to her daughter while trying to appear calm and unflappable for the girl’s sake. Only the deep blush that colored her cheeks and reached down to the top of her breasts gave an indication of what she was feeling inside.
Schnurr was in his glory now. Stripping Jacob’s wife naked in front of him with so many witnesses, was meant to obliterate many of the Jew’s annoying pretensions, and make all three of them see their predicament for what it was. It would behoove them to recognize that he held all of the power and they should defer to him accordingly. He wanted the women to feel tainted, humiliated. But mostly he wanted Maulder to feel emasculated, forced to watch the spectacle of his wife being undressed at another man’s whim. He would have preferred more of a reaction from Greta. A little hysteria may have gone a long way to bringing Maulder to heel. Her calm acceptance took away some of the sting he had hoped would break Maulder if he saw himself unable to protect her honor. Schnurr did admire the way she carried herself, proudly on display before so many lustful men. Some women like that, or perhaps she felt the little peep show would end there if she showed no shame. Or maybe she felt her bravado would take unwanted attention away from her daughter. It was then that Schnurr decided to raise the ante.
“How often do you breed her?” he asked the shaken husband. Jacob stared stupidly for a moment hesitating at such a demeaning question. Schnurr brought the crop down sharply across Greta’s buttock. She yelped and he asked Jacob again “How often does the bitch get bred?”
“Once. Maybe twice per week,” Jacob answered humbly.
“Not much. Hardly enough to keep a Jewish slut satisfied. How would you feel if I offered you the services of the German army to help with your conjugal obligations.”
Greta gasped and Jacob began to beg. They were well aware of the Jews and gypsies pressed into service as whores to keep the soldiers happy.
“Please… sir, I’ll do whatev?r you want, but please… don’t disgrace my Greta.”
“It’s a shame to let a fine looking piece of ass get so little use. Perhaps you can tell me,” he said turning to Greta, “would you rather be content with your inadequate husband or would you like to be a whore for the troops?”
Greta answered without hesitation “My husband!”
“Good!” Schnurr crowed looking at Jacob. “Perhaps you won’t mind giving a demonstration of how youhave inspired such loyalty? We’d like to watch you fuck. If you both cum in front of us it will prove your love and you can keep her for yourself. If you can’t then they will get all they can handle from the troops,” he nodded toward Greta and Magda.
The soldiers pushed the husband and wife together and formed a circle around them. Greta, realizing what was at stake, began unbuckling Jacob’s pants and tugging them off. When she found his cock it was limp and she desperately set to work trying to get him hard. She stroked him the way he liked and played with his balls without much response. She used her mouth and humped herself against his leg like a bitch in heat. But taunts from the onlookers along with stress and the pressure to perform kept his cock soft and unresponsive.
“Take off your clothes and help,” Schnurr commanded Magda.
“Yes hurry!” Greta cried, no longer worried about propriety in view of what was at stake.
Sensing what may have been a life and death urgency, Magda pulled off her clothes and knelt beside her mother. Desperately the two women worked on Maulder. Greta stroked the shaft and Magda sucked in desperation while Jacob tried to think those dirty thoughts that always worked in the past.
“Your little girl has done that before,” Schnurr gibed watching Magda suck cock. “She’s learned more than mathematics hidden away at school.”
Greta’s finger slipped between Jacob’s cheeks and played with his anus the way she knew he liked. She wet her middle finger and pressed it inside the tight opening while Magda bobbed up and down on her father’s cock.
“The soldiers won’t have this problem,” Schnurr laughed making fun of Maulder’s unresponsive penis.
Maulder was beside himself. Images of the two women he loved sweating naked under endless lines of brutal soldiers floated agonizingly in Jacob’s mind. He watched the back of his daughter’s head as she worshipped his cock and imagined her forced to service countless other men in the same way. Her teen-aged tongue laved her father’s frenum while Schnurr prattled on about the obvious experience of the 18-year-old cocksucker. Gradually, he began to stiffen. Greta, seeing the beginning of a hardon, pushed a second finger deep into Jacob’s anus. He squealed as Greta’s other hand gently squeezed his nuts. Both of his hands suddenly gripped his daughter’s head pulling her all the way down onto his cock making her gag and sputter. A long pathetic whine escaped from Magda as Jacob came copiously in her mouth. She whimpered for release but he held her tight until he heard her swallow noisily.
For a moment they were quiet and then Schnurr spoke. “You let your daughter do your work,” he admonished Greta. “She deserves a reward, don’t you think?” He helped Magda up onto her feet and pushed her toward the kitchen table, then walked the kneeling Greta over to a position between Magda’s knees.
Both women knew what she was there to do. There was no sense denying or delaying. Greta placed a loving kiss on her daughter’s belly and then riffled through the auburn fleece with her tongue seeking the swollen lips of the girl’s cunt.
“Make her cum,” Schnurr prompted.
Magda leaned back on her elbows and watched her mother’s pretty face nestle into the nest of auburn curls. She tried to disassociate herself from the soldiers surrounding them but the feeling of being watched by strangers in such an intimate act sent butterflies rippling through her stomach. Unconsciously, she spread her legs out wide and lifted her belly to her mother’s mouth. Her fingers wound into Greta’s hair and she rocked her hips forward smearing her mother’s face with vaginal juice. When Greta’s tongued flicked across her swollen clit, Magda lurched up and uttered a gasp. The muscles in her youthful belly tensed and telegraphed her carnal compulsions to the mesmerised men who watched.
Greta was surprised by her daughter’s aggressive libido. She licked teasingly around clitoral hood coaxing the sensitive bud to appear. Several times Magda’s pelvic bone rose up in spasm to thump against her mouth bruising her lips and coating her with musky wetness.
“Don’t forget her asshole,” Schnurr instructed, and the girl pulled her legs up to offer her anus to Greta’s probing tongue. She squealed as the tip slipped past her sphincter and her breath came in little gasps. Her own fingers slipped down to tease between her legs to moment roll her clit until she came. Her mother slipped a finger into her daughters spasming cunt and gingerly felt it. “My god,” she thought. “All of that and she’s still a virgin.”
Greta sat back on her haunches and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She looked at her daughter lying back with her arm covering her face. The girl’s legs were flopped open and her glistening pink labia stared back at her from beneath Magda’s matted cunt hair.